The Only One He Ever Loved
by deadlyxchagrin
Summary: Harry Potter and Bridget Riddle can do nothing but hate each other. But when fate jumps in they are thrust together, and the only question is will it save them or kill them?
1. Who's That Girl?

Harry Potter was not sure what the big deal about that night was.

He did know, however, that Missus Weasley had been running around the house all week, cleaning, cooking, and worrying. She was obsessing over things she'd never cared about before, wining about every single blemish in the house. Over and over she would scold the inhabitants to be on their best behavior, clean and polished, for the night that had finally approached.

Harry was surprised the red-headed mother hadn't fainted by now. The image made him chuckle slightly, but not enough to distract anybody else from their work.

Because Harry was just about the only one in the house who didn't have a job to complete.

"Mate, why don't you have to do any work?" Ron complained one night, scowling.

"Dunno," Harry mumbled. "All your mum said was that it was 'my night too,' but I can't imagine…" Harry trailed off. In truth, he was disturbed by the special way he was being treated. Missus Weasley had always had a soft spot for him, but never before had she excluded him from cleaning. He was part of the family and therefore was part of the chore list.

The idea that this fact had changed bothered Harry more than it should have. Anybody else would have been thankful, but Harry wondered if he was overstaying his welcome. For certain Ron was feeling bothered, but he said nothing out of the ordinary complaints.

So when the Weasley family plus was seated at their oversized table, waiting for their surprise guests, Harry could not help himself from staring anxiously towards the doorway.

And when there was a knock on the door, Harry couldn't help himself from standing to great his visitors.

The first person Harry saw made him snarl.

"Potter," came the voice of the intruder, glaring angrily.

"Draco, shut up! You knew he was going to be here, why we're here. Plus, this is excellent practice," said the girl beside him. Harry eyed her carefully, distracting his attention from Malfoy. She had blonde hair, very close to Malfoy's, and they also shared similar blue eyes.

There was nothing special about her, really, other than the fact that she was quite pretty. The only noted qualities, Harry mused, was the way she clutched Malfoy's hand fiercely, turning the blonde male's skin an ugly red. Her relations to the situation, however, were unknown.

Missus Weasley cleared her throat before speaking. "I'm sorry-"

"Please, don't be," interrupted the only adult. Her voice was smooth and welcoming. "We're a very strange group here. It's only expected a little fighting occurs," she laughed.

"Yes, well, I suppose I should introduce you all?" Missus Weasley suggested, but waited for no answer. "This is Stacey, she works in the palace."

Harry raised an eyebrow in curiosity. What was a somebody from the palace doing here?

"Like the King and Queen?" Ron questioned.

"Yes," Missus Weasley said sternly, throwing him a look. "And this is her-" Missus Weasley froze then, staring desperately at her husband.

"Lillian and Bridget," Stacey added, smiling. She pointed to the two girls in order. Bridget was the blonde by Draco and Lillian a girl beside her. Harry watched her carefully as she smiled a tentative smile, brushing a lock of striking red hair behind her ear. For some reason the girl would not meet his eye.

"And you all know Draco," Missus Weasley added finally, averting her eyes. Apparently, Draco was not expected to come.

"I'm sorry for Draco and Bridget. Lillian insisted her best friend come and Bridget can't do anything without her cousin these days," Stacey breathed, frowning slightly.

So they were cousins, Harry thought cautiously. He became immersed in his thoughts as the Weasley's continued to introduce their family, and even though Harry was closest and standing, she saved him for last.

"And this is Harry," she choked, but not out of nerves. There was something strange going on.

"Hi," Lillian stated, walking forward to shake his hand. Her skin was warm, but sweaty, and she had a strangely familiar look about her. She looked like somebody he knew, but he could think of nobody who shared her features.

Then, suddenly, Bridget was walking hesitantly towards him. He held out his hand politely and she took it, staring at their connected limbs sadly. The room seemed to freeze as they touched, more anxious than before. The tension could have been cut with a knife.

"I'm sorry!" Bridget exclaimed, breaking the silence as she stared at his forehead. "I'm sorry, Lillian," she continued, breaking away. Her eyes lit up with fear as she faced the red-head. "I can't do this. I thought I could, but I can't. I-I have to go."

She was gone. She had ran, faster than he thought possible, leaving the rest of them in awkward silence.

"That's Bridget for you," Malfoy muttered. This angered Harry, though he did not know the girl. Just about anything that prat said angered Harry, though.

"Malfoy," he said warningly.

"No, Harry, he's right," Lillian interjected sadly. "She gets scared and runs. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought her."

Harry stared at the stranger for a moment, wondering exactly why they were here and why exactly so many people were nervous about their presence, especially around him. He was tired of dancing around introductions. It was time for answers.

"Who are you?"


	2. Tommy Q

Eventually the girl returned, dripping wet from a storm that had formed not long after she left

Eventually the girl returned, dripping wet from a storm that had formed not long after she left. In her absence, the had been a great deal of fretting. The only one who seemed unconcerned, aside from Harry, was Malfoy. Harry did not pride himself in agreeing with Malfoy's emotions, but despite Stacey and Lillian's whispers Malfoy seemed to believe that the girl-Bridget-could take care of herself even in the rain.

Harry, on the other hand, was far too confused to care.

"Are you insane?" Lillian demanded, rushing towards her friend and embracing her in a hug. They broke apart quickly, Lillian's face scrunching up in displeasure as water dripped onto her.

"Just a little," Bridget teased, a light smile playing on her face. Then, quite suddenly, an owl flew in, landing happily on Bridget's outstretched arm. She smiled at the bird, though she did not look happy at the letter she'd received.

"Now isn't the best time, Smokey," she muttered, frowning. The owl hooted grumpily, nipping before flying away.

"This is bloody strange," Ron mumbled in Hermione's ear.

Bridget sighed, opening the letter. Lillian eyed her cautiously, reading over her shoulder. Bridget was humming a quiet tune, something Harry didn't recognize. It was pretty, sort of, when he thought about it, the attention was soon diverted from the two girls. Stacey forced upon them unwanted conversation, placing Malfoy across the table from himself, something Harry was glad for.

He, however, was uninterested with whatever the table had to offer. The more pressing matter seemed to be the two girls huddled in the corner, whispering.

"It's from Tommy!" Bridget hissed, rolling her eyes.

"Don't call him that," Lillian snapped, glaring.

"You go sit down. He wants me to write back soon. Meaning now. Meaning I'll be there in a minute."

"Shut up. I'm staying. What are you going to say?"

Bridget smirked, rummaging a quill and paper from her bag. Lillian was still gazing down at the letter with a worried look, obviously taking it much harder than Bridget was. Harry vaguely wondered why that was. The letter seemed to be addressed to Bridget, and it was obvious its contents were not of Lillian's concern. Should the recipient not care more about her sender than the friend?

_Hey._

_I'm fine, okay? It's quite delightful here because I've just met some wonderful boys in spectacles! Doesn't that sound exiting? Draco's well too, tell his parents. I'm teaching him to be polite as well instead of the usual scowls and glares. You'd know all about that, of course. I can't say anymore because it's rude, alright? I'm with company right now. Lils already thinks I'm insane._

_-Bridget_

"You're so casual with him-"

"I have to be or else I'd be serious," Bridget replied, guiding her friend to sit down. Lillian ended up next to Harry, Bridget by her side. Harry still did not speak, for he was far too interested in Bridget.

Who was writing to her? What was so pressing about the contents of the letter that she had to answer right away, ignoring her hosts?

"Sorry," Lillian sighed, looking shyly up at him. "Things are complicated for Bridget and sometimes she gets a little crazy. We think it's a disease," she joked, laughing. The laugh was forced though and Harry was having trouble listening.

The dinner continued, anxious feelings growing like fire inside Harry. The further the dinner went the more people arrived, even Professor Dumbledore. Nobody was talking though. They'd send subtle glances in his direction, but the only conversational person he'd spoken with so far was Lillian.

Within the first few moments of knowing her he'd grown to like her. Given the chance, it was possible that they could be friends. She was funny and nice, but open. She wasn't as loud as her best friend, and not nearly as mysterious. Whatever the reason they were there was, Harry was almost certain in concerned Bridget. Lillian seemed almost normal to him, and maybe that was why he enjoyed talking to her so much. They connected in ways Harry couldn't explain, especially on first meeting.

"Lillian?" Harry questioned.

"Yeah?" she replied.

"What's wrong with Bridget? She's a little…"

"I'm her best friend, Harry," Lillian sighed, rubbing her temple. "You'll have to wait until she tells you herself. It's not something of casual conversation, even if she acts like it."

"Will I get the chance?" Harry asked.

"We're going to Hogwarts this year, Harry!" Lillian exclaimed, glad to change the subject.

"For the final year?" Harry inquired.

"Yeah, I know it's a little weird but I'm exited."

"Bee, what are you doing writing at dinner?" Malfoy joked, but his face held no humor.

"Nothing, just a little-"

"Can I read?" Harry blurted, suddenly distracted.

"Harry," she choked, startled. "I can't-"

"Why not?"

"Secrets, Potter. There are many things you don't know about the way life is right now. You'll learn some tonight, but I hold more truths than you could ever handle. Maybe one day I'll let them slip, but for now you must remember love.

"Love will save you if you do not let it kill you. If you do not let it tear you like it has torn me, love will be your crutch in this war."

"Stop it," Malfoy snapped. "You're telling him too much."

"Relax. I said nothing."

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Dumbledore standing.

"I think, perhaps, it is time to reveal the reason for a guests arrival."


	3. Something To Sleep To

It seemed, that as the time approached, nobody wanted to be the first to speak

It seemed, that as the time approached, nobody wanted to be the first to speak. Worry bubbled in Harry's stomach as he waited, watching the adults turn and look at each other, each one deliberating the same thing.

_How are we going to say this?_

"Lillian, honey, you said you wanted to tell him," Stacey cooed, breaking the silence. Lillian shook her head, shivering slightly as a tear welled up in her eye.

"I'll do it," Bridget interjected, frowning slightly. "As long as I'm not interrupted."

"You don't have to do this-" Malfoy started.

"Harry, Lillian's your sister."

The world seemed to freeze for a moment, Harry's eyes widening. His breathe hitched, a warm feeling crawling up his body. Thoughts scrambled to become coherent in his brain, but nothing could be done. He couldn't speak.

"How?" Ron blurted beside him, and Harry was thankful for it. The answers to questions he couldn't ask would be helpful to him right at that time.

"She was born a year after Harry, just a few days before Voldemort attacked." The table winced at his name. "She was still in the hospital when he came, so she no curses hurt her. In fact, I don't think anybody aside from close friends knew of her birth. James and Lily Potter had been in hiding for a long time by then, so I imagine nobody noticed she was pregnant.

"After the death of Lily and James it was obvious to Professor Dumbledore where Harry had to go, but it was also clear that his muggle Aunt and Uncle would not care for more than one child. Harry needed the protection of family, did he not? Lillian, on the other hand, just needed protection."

"I was Lily's best friend in school," Stacey muttered. She was crying now. "I felt it my duty to take her in."

The shock had worn off by now, curiosity taking its place. Maybe Harry should have felt angry, but all he could feel was happiness. He'd found family when he thought there was none. All the still unanswered questions would become clear soon, as long as he got to talk to his sister.

_His sister._

"Why are you telling me now?" he whispered. "Why not before?"

"We didn't want to but Lillian in danger. She was happy where we live, in the castle, but things have changed now."

"I wanted to meet you," Lillian admitted. "I was tired of hiding. We all were," she continued, glancing at Bridget briefly. She offered an encouraging smile.

"Well, I suppose we'll let you two talk. Lillian will be staying here for the rest of the summer, so don't feel like you have to stay up all night talking," Missus Weasley announced, a bright smile on her face.

"We have to go. Come on, Bridget, Draco," Stacey said. Bridget and Malfoy stood, Bridget giving her best friend a loving hug before she left.

"See you at Hogwarts?" Lillian asked.

"I guess you will. Have fun here, please. Write often!"

With that their guests were gone, the dinner over, leaving Harry suddenly alone with a sister he didn't know. Even Ron and Hermione had left him, probably under strict orders of Missus Weasley.

"Well," Lillian coughed nervously.

"I have so many more questions," Harry sighed.

"And I have answers."

For the rest of the night the siblings talked quietly, soaking up each other's presence. They would become close very fast, this was obvious to Harry.

It was not until late at night, when Lillian got tired that Harry let his mind wander to the other girl.

Bridget confused Harry far more than Lillian ever did. While he was so distracted by his family, the curiosity over the blonde would not fade. Who had written to her that evening? Why was she hiding, never coming to school, and what had brought her out now? Could she really be Malfoy's cousin?

She was pretty, this Harry knew. It was enough to make is stomach churn a little thinking about her. He didn't know her, though, and had no intentions of doing so.

Eventually Harry drifted off to sleep, thoughts of family and strangers echoing in his brain. He just needed to calm himself down before facing tomorrow's struggles and questions.


	4. The New House

Like her parents and brother before her, Lillian had been sorted into Gryffindor house

Like her parents and brother before her, Lillian had been sorted into Gryffindor house. She joined Harry with a smile dancing on her face, happy to be near him again. He patted her on the back proudly, which she returned with a grin from ear to ear. However, as Lillian's eyes darted around the room a frown formed slowly.

"Where's Bridget? She was supposed to be here by now to get sorted and it's raining!" she exclaimed.

"She'll be fine," Harry consoled, laughing. "I'm sure she's a big girl."

Lillian rolled her eyes at this, the concerned look not leaving her face even when Bridget did walk in the room, soaking wet.

"You're late, Miss-" Dumbledore started before being cut off.

"I'm sorry. Can we just get this over with?" Bridget snapped, a glare in her eyes. Harry scowled, not having met one student who would be so rude as to stand up to Dumbledore. Even the Slytherins, who hated him, had never before disregarded him to his face. Who did she think she was, cutting him off like that? The only person Harry had known to do that was Umbridge, and if Bridget would anything like that old hag he was sure he didn't want her around.

The hat was placed on Bridget's head, all attention then focused on the strange new girl, even stranger than the one before her.

"Ms. Riddle, I was wondering if I'd ever get the chance to meet you," the hat drawled on as it usually did when placed on a head. Harry turned around, catching a tall, dark man slipping in through the back. His attention than drifted from the sorting and towards the stranger staring intently at Bridget.

"Hey there hat. What's up?"

"Sorting, my dear girl. Just like every year," the hat snapped, annoyed with her procrastinating.

"Please sort," the man from the back said, masking his face in the shadows.

"What are you doing here? Did my father send you?" Bridget exclaimed, noticing and recognizing the man.

"Oh no," Lillian muttered beside Harry.

"Well, of course, Ms. Riddle. He would have attended himself, but the Dark Lord does not busy himself with school events," the man drawled, smirking. Dumbledore rose, then, fire raging in his eyes. Teachers drew their wands.

"Please leave," he stated, loud and clear.

"I want to know her house," the death eater snickered.

"I can't," the sorting had declared. "There is no house that would suit her!" it yelled before falling back into hibernation until next year.

"Then I'll be gone, Dumbledore," the man in the back said, smirking. Then he was gone, quite suddenly.

Chatter broke out among the students.

Harry felt fury rage inside of him. He understood it now, though. Bridget was Voldemort's daughter and now she was residing inside Hogwarts. Hate fueled his glares, watching Bridget run out of the room.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry seethed, turning towards Lillian. She was still staring wistfully at her friend, concern written all over her features. "How could you be friends with her?"

"She's not working for him!" Lillian defended. "She really has a great heart."

"I'm with Harry," Hermione stated, frowning at Lillian. "There is nothing thicker than blood."

"She's my best friend! She's done nothing to hurt you."

"Yet," Harry muttered. "Maybe she's just a really good actress."

"Harry, please."

"We can't be friends with her. You can do whatever you want, but I'm not talking to her."

--

Ron lay in his bed, late at night, far after even Harry had fallen asleep.

He was thinking about Bridget, wondering about her. He hadn't known her for very long, but so far Lillian was right; she had done nothing to hurt him or Harry. Besides, his gut was screaming to listen to Lillian. She had been best friends with Bridget for years now, and if she trusted her, why shouldn't Ron?

Ron did, though. Ron knew she was alright, maybe not the best company, but alright. She wasn't evil like her father.

She was just…different.


	5. Dirty Little Secrets

The whole great hall froze and watched as Bridget Riddle walked confidently into the great hall. Not only was she completely out of dress code, wearing a long black shirt, but she was acted bold and snarky, as if nothing had happened last night out of the ordinary. As if she wasn't Voldemort's daughter.

"Professor Dumbledore?" she questioned, approaching the headmaster with ease. "Where would I girl like me sit for her meals?"

"Well," Dumbledore chuckled. "Anywhere you like, I suppose," he said before adding. "Are you enjoying your room?"

"Yes," Bridget said, nodding. "It's probably for the best that there's nobody around. Somebody like me probably needs a private room."

"I see," Dumbledore mused, "but yes, please sit at a table with your friends."

Bridget smiled weakly before examining the room. It didn't take long for Malfoy to wave her over, a smug smile on his face. She obliged, dancing over to the table and sitting next to him.

"Figures she'd resort to Slytherins. I don't know what Dumbledore was talking about. Who would want to be friends with an evil bloodsucking tick?" Harry laughed, raising his voice as Bridget sauntered past him. She turned on her heal, smiling sarcastically as she looked at him.

"Thanks for the compliment."

"Harry, please don't try to insult her," Lillian intervened. "She doesn't care and she's been through enough to know that anybody who cares that much about her background isn't worth her time."

Harry considered this for a moment, letting a small wave of guilt pass through him. In truth, Bridget had done nothing to hurt him. This did not mean he would give her the chance, though, and the fact that before he knew about her background he was hoping for friendship would simply have to stay his little secret. If Lillian found out she would berate him for days, begging him more than he was noticing she already did to befriend her.

Civility to enemies was never one of Harry's strong points, anyway.

Bridget was loud, and this was something all the room noticed. She persisted to hum that same tune she'd hummed the first day Harry met her, and quite loudly at that. There were words, it seemed, to go along with it, but she sung them quietly so that Harry could not hear. The melody, however, was enough to get on Harry's nerves, despite how pretty it sounded the first time he heard it.

That was when Harry realized he was wrong. He did not know Bridget Riddle very well, but in the time he had spent with her she'd been rude and evasive. Her sense of humor was strange, her attitude unfamiliar. Every bit of her was annoying, actually. Harry changed his mind about her almost immediately then.

Even if she was just like any other girl, no relations to Voldemort or Death Eaters, Harry could not befriend her. He didn't like her. That was it, and it was something Lillian especially was going to have to understand.

He and his sister had become close over the summer, and there was no way he wanted to hurt her, but Harry could never bring himself to be friend with Bridget even if Lillian begged him day in and day out. The two girls could be friends all they wanted, but Harry refused to be involved.

--

"Drakie, who is this?" a shrill voice squeaked from beside Bridget.

"Yes, Drakie, love, who is this strange girl talking to you? I thought I told you that you couldn't talk to other girls. You're just too damn sexy," Bridget wined in return, smirking lightly.

"Draco!" Pansy Parkinson exclaimed, glaring at Bridget.

"Pansy, she's my cousin," Draco muttered, not looking up from his food. Pansy frowned, crossing her arms.

"Whatever," she muttered before walking away to go sit with some of her other friends.

"So what's it like being an outcast already?" Draco teased after a moment of silence. Bridget shrugged.

"I don't care what they think. Everyone can avoid me all they want. They aren't worth my time."

"Oh, but I think they are!" Draco countered. "He's your best friend's brother, after all."

"Who said we were talking about him?" Bridget demanded. "Besides, that's what you're for."


	6. Dream

Bridget arrived in the Potions Classroom ten minutes early. Snape was seated at his desk, going over papers silently.

"Good morning, Ms. Riddle," he welcomed, not looking up.

"Hey there, Professor," Bridget said, a teasing tone beneath the exterior of her voice. She'd met Snape before, through her father, and they'd become close acquiesces.

"And how is your day so far?" he asked in monotone.

"Oh, it was fun. I woke up and got insulted by four different people within the first five minutes of my being at this _wonderful _school," Bridget explained, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Potter?" Snape snapped, spitting the name out like venom.

"They don't like, I don't like them."

"No, I have never cared for the boy either," Snape agreed, scowling. He seemed to drift then, becoming lost in a reverie Bridget could not describe.

"Bridget?" came a voice from the door.

"Lillian, what are you doing here?" Bridget asked, turning around on her heal with a smile.

"I wanted to be early for my first class, same as you."

"Maybe I should have come late, though," Harry muttered in Ron's ear, grimacing as he glanced at Bridget. Ron snickered.

"Sit quietly or points will be deducted," Snape ordered from his desk. Bridget smirked, sauntering over to a seat near the back.

"Yes, sir."

Eventually, the rest of the class joined them, including Draco who took a seat next to Bridget.

"So tell me, Bridget, what's it like having your own private room?" he asked conversationally as Snape droned on about that day's lesson. Bridget smirked.

"Oh, it's great. Everything I'd want a room to be. You know, a bed, bathroom, mirror, the works," she teased, rolling her eyes. Draco smiled broadly, despite himself.

"Geez, Draco, since when do you smile?" Bridget taunted.

"Since when do you care?" he retorted. Bridget shrugged, turning her attention to the Professor as she ran a hand through her hair, a nervous habit she'd picked up.

Across the room, Harry conversed with his friends and sister.

"What do you think this Special Effects class is?" Ron mused, staring curiously at his schedule.

"I don't know. We have it tomorrow, though," Harry pondered.

"I can't wait!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Hermione, you can't wait for any class," Ron quipped, smirking.

"Me either!" Lillian interjected. "This whole school thing is all new to me. I'm so used to home school back home with Bridget."

Whenever the name of Voldemort's daughter was mentioned Harry felt himself drift from his sister, once again reminded of her relations with the enemy. She didn't speak with her friend as often, Harry noticed, but that did not mean Lillian didn't bring her up casually in conversation more than was safe.

Ron, thankfully, was always careful to divert the subject smoothly.

"So any idea what it might be?" he asked quickly.

"Maybe really advanced magic?" Hermione suggested.

"Maybe it helps us decide what to do for careers," Lillian added. Harry smiled at the thought, pleased with the idea of somebody helping him become an auroror .

Then, almost nonchalantly, Bridget's gaze made its way to Lillian, her best friend since birth. The conversation appeared normal to her, though she could not hear the discussions about the upcoming class. They were all laughing, though, and that was something that made Bridget happy. She was thankful that Lillian had found such close friendship with her brother and his friends. It was also surprising to see Harry in such high spirits, all things considered. At she stared, Bridget's mind drifted.

_An unnamed boy whispered sweet nothings in her ear, to be responded with giggles and fits of joy. "I love you's" were exchanged, each one as meaningful and heartfelt as the next. They kissed, a love so deep it was unbreakable escalating by their touch._

Bridget was pulled out of her daydream by the reality of class and Draco Malfoy.

"What are you dreaming about?" he inquired. Bridget frowned, displeased to leave her fantasy. Because that was all it was, right? There was no way that could ever happen for her, because of who she was. Love was not in the cards ahead.

"Boys," she told him airily.

"Potter, please refrain from speaking," Snape yelled, distracting the two cousins momentarily. Bridget wondered if Snape wanted to replace the "speaking" with "breathing." It was plausible.

"What boy?" Draco demanded, curious. "Do I know him?"

"No, I made him up," Bridget shrugged.

"Mr. Thomas, ten points from Gryffindor. Please pay attention," Snape scolded again.

"Why?" Draco questioned.

"Because I have nothing better to do in the middle of class," Bridget snapped, turning away with a sigh. In all honestly, she wondered why she did daydream. She could never manage to think about something that actually might happen, only leading her to false hopes. Continuous daydreams would only cause her pain, after all. She sighed wistfully, nonetheless.

"Now what's wrong?" Draco asked.

"It just sucks knowing the way things are, Draco. That your daydreams will never come true. That you'll always be hated for something that was never your fault."

"Weasley! Twenty points from Gryffindor!"

Draco didn't respond to this, partly because he had no idea what to say, and partly because Snape was becoming restless. Even if they were in his house, the Gryffindors were being extra talkative today, putting their potions master in a horrible mood.

Bridget took this time, like she had before, to think.

Deep inside, she sensed change. Of course, things were different now. She and Lillian had both come "out of the closet" with their true identities. It was Bridget who drew the short stick, though, for hers was not one many people wanted to associate themselves with.

Because of this, death also loomed. Voldemort would become restless and eventually somebody would suffer. The only question was who?

"Do you ever give your brain a rest?" Draco sighed, rolling his eyes.

"You really don't have anything better to do, now do you?"

"Granger, concentrate on my lesson, not your own. Fifty points from Gryffindor."

"Not really," Draco shrugged, smirking.

"I was thinking about my father. I was thinking about how I don't want anybody else to die or suffer for his actions. I was thinking that, even though we hate each other, Harry should win. He has to," Bridget admitted, looking down, embarrassed.

"Don't you think that's maybe how we all feel?" Draco murmured after a moment's silence.

"Shall I deduct more points, McMillan?"

"How many points do they lose?" Bridget exclaimed, breaking the awkward tension.

"A lot, but just in this class," Draco snickered.

--

"That was terrible!" Lillian exclaimed after class is over. "We had to have lost all our points, just in that class!"

"Yeah, I know, but luckily it's just that one were we lose. Snape hates us," Ron muttered angrily.

"I noticed you didn't get in trouble, though," Hermione commented.

Lillian frowned. "I've met Snape before, because of Bridget," she said slowly. "I guess he doesn't hate me."

Harry raised an eyebrow, as if trying to prove something. Lillian didn't catch on though, ignoring him playfully as she strode ahead.


	7. Famous Wizards Through the Ages

Bridget was talented for many reasons, one of them being her ability to fun for hours without stopping. She'd been running since she was a girl, and had taken it upon herself to continue the habit, even when she was supposed to be doing other things.

Because of this, Bridget could run and read, her pure instincts and sense of direction keeping her from bumping into walls. Of course, this did not prevent her from crashing head on into unfamiliar students, an act they viewed viciously, quickly avoiding her like the plague.

Currently, Bridget had strayed away from fantasy and took a chance in nonfiction. It was easy to read fact instead of fiction, because nothing in these books was imaginary. Her book at the time, was _Famous Wizards Through The Ages,_ and she was almost done with it.

Of course, this didn't say much, for it was a magical book and would update itself when the author saw it fit.

As she turned the page Bridget's step faltered, and she just barely was able to divert a small first year, who was hurrying away somewhere. The words on the page stood out more than the rest, like red ink on a snow white page.

_Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived_

_Harry Potter is widely known for the defeat of Lord Voldemort see page 568 an act he completed at age one. He is the only known survivor of the killing curse, proved by the lighting bolt shaped scar on his forehead._

_On the fateful night when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked his parents were killed, leaving him with no family but a recently discovered sister. Yet, when the wand was turned on him it was his attacker that perished, not him._

_Currently, he attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as he finished his final year. Since his survival he and a few notable friends have taken a stand against You-Know-Who._

_Honorable mentions and relations: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Lillian Potter, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood_

Bridget frowned, glad to be done with the book. She turned the page, only to be ambushed with another shocking entry.

_Bridget Riddle: Daughter of the Dark Lord_

_Bridget Riddle is known not for her actions, but her relations to the feared Dark Lord Voldemort. She is believed to be next to the thrown, accompanying her father as soon as she is of age. Many believe she's of great power, and together the father and daughter will be unstoppable._

_While she has done nothing in the site of the wizard community to raise eyebrows, her existence will not be kept quiet, her actions examined carefully._

_Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, does not speak about her stay at his school, only saying that she's committed no crime._

_At this school, she is also known for being the only student not placed in a House, living in a spare room in the school._

_Most other facts are unknown, aside from the one that despite their parentages, Bridget Riddle is close friends with Harry Potter's sister, Lillian._

_Honorable mentions and relations: Lillian Potter, Lord Voldemort_

Bridget scowled, letting out a fierce scream as she threw the book against the wall. That book was rubbish, telling nothing but lies about her. She sped up then, running as fast as possible. Though she was no longer distracted by a book, Bridget still paid no attention to where she was going. She turned the corner then, crashing into somebody.

She came crashing to the floor, looking up to see a mass of black.

"Funny, I was just reading about you," she muttered, noticing the familiar features of Harry Potter.

"Why? Getting to know the enemy?" Harry demanded, standing up and straightening his glasses. Bridget looked up at him, still not bothering to lift herself off the floor.

"No. It's not my fault you're in books."

"That's not entirely true, you know," Harry laughed, though the matter was in no way funny.

"I was one when he attacked, Harry. Not all of us can defend curses as infants," Bridget snapped, glaring as she stood up. Harry opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by his sister.

"Bridget! Come here, I've been meaning to talk to you," she said hurriedly, dragging Bridget away from the scene. Bridget noticed a few stray students who had been watching the forming argument scatter.

"What's up?" Bridget asked, smiling at her friend. It felt like they hadn't talked in ages. Lillian frowned, glancing over at her brother. Harry was staring angrily at the two of them, arms crossed in stubbornness.

"I wanted to see if you were okay," Lillian explained. "I know I haven't been spending time with you and-"

"I'm fine," Bridget interjected. "Overly pissed right now, but that has nothing to do with you. Besides, you deserve to be with your family."

"Are you sure?" Lillian asked, eyes eager and filled with worry.

"Yes!" Bridget told her, smiling. "I have family too, you know."

"Yes, but sometimes Draco can be not the best company-"

"Neither can Harry."

"That's not fair," Lillian stated.

"We don't like each other, okay? And it makes sense, I think. But he likes you and that's the important part. That's what we're doing here, right? And he's happy now, right? Don't think I don't know about the shit that went done with him and now finally he's found some hope," Bridget ranted, waving her arms accordingly.

"Sounds like you fancy him," Lillian teased.

"Well, duh. I love him," Bridget replied sarcastically.

"Bridget Potter. Has quite the ring to it?"

"Shut it. You'll get beaten if you ever say that again."

Lillian laughed, deciding she was relieved of her friend duties for the moment. Bridget seemed okay, not any worse than she should be, and Lillian embraced her in a hug.

"You know you can always talk to me, even if he is around. You're my best friend."

"I know, and thank you. But you better get back to him before he storms over here yelling," Bridget teased, glancing his direction again. He was still fuming, angry as usual. "You'd think that was the only look his face had."

"Yes, he does get quite emotional, doesn't he?"

They laughed again before departing, each girl going back to the place where they belonged.

Bridget sighed, walking in the apposite direction as she realized maybe it wasn't with each other anymore.


	8. Special Effects

The song in this chapter is by MY Chemical Romance, and like all their other longs it has a very long name I can't seem to remember.

Just saying, I take no credit for it.

* * *

Bridget Riddle loved and hated mornings.

She hated them, because waking up and getting ready was always such a pain. She forced herself, every morning, to spend hours trying to tame her hair and make herself look presentable. If she had her own way, she'd simply attend class in her tank top and boxers, blonde locks flying all over the place. It really was a shame she looked horrible with short hair, because she hated combing it when it was long.

She loved them, however, because despite how confused and lost she got waking up, there was a strange peace about it. With the rays of the sun beating in her window, lighting up the room after its hour of darkness, rest fell upon Bridget's mind. Worries faded. In her solitude there was nobody around to judge her or taunt her.

Unfortunately, class awaited, and a very early class at that. Finally, the class they had all been waiting for: Special Effects.

Of course, for some reason, this class was only held once every month, it apparently not important enough to be a regular subject. Because of this, it _was_ held very early, forcing Bridget to run there and still attend late.

However, the teacher had yet to arrive, and this was probably a good thing because this was unlike any other class Bridget had been to. It was almost as if she was at home again, being that there were no desks, only couches and pillows. A small table was settled in the middle of the classroom and around it was the furniture, formed in a perfect C.

The professor arrived shortly after Bridget and with great difficulty hushed the class and herded them to their seats. She was Latina, with dark skin and long brown hair. A smile was placed contently on her lips, which were painted a luscious red.

"My name is Esmeralda. I will have none of this 'professor' nonsense," she started with a heavy accents. "With the war worsening, Headmaster Dumbledore advised me to teach a class on expression. He and I both believe it is important, at times, to distract ourselves from impending worries and let it all out.

"I'm assuming we have some very creative students in this class, no? And because this class is about expression I was hoping we could have a brave volunteer share something creative of theirs? Perhaps a poem or work of art? Maybe some of the males would like to share a Quidditch story!"

The class fell silent, looking around the room for a volunteer.

"Nice try," Bridget muttered to herself, not intending for anybody to hear. Unfortunately, though, somebody did.

"And what about you?" Harry snapped angrily. Bridget sighed, wondering why she always got herself in these situations. Was it impossible for her and Harry to just leave each other alone?

"What about me, Potter?" she retorted, smirking.

"If you're so judgmental over this why don't you share?"

"Maybe I'm not creative! But so what? At least I don't have a big nose."

"Are you saying I have a big nose?" Harry asked, a note of hysteria in his voice.

"No. I only implied it. But really, I never said anything about your nose. Do I sense an insecurity? Maybe you're the one that should be sharing."

"Students!" Esmeralda shouted, redirecting their attention. Bridget scowled, facing forward. "Mr. Potter is correct. I would greatly appreciate if you would share, Ms. Riddle."

"Fine."

Harry smirked, pleased to have won the quarrel. He half expected Bridget to sing the same melody she'd hummed in the first days he knew her, but she'd chosen a different song. Apparently, the girl did not dwell on things for very long.

Harry didn't mean to pay attention to the song, and he was proud to say most of the lyrics got lost somewhere before they reached his ears, but the ones that he did manage to hear startled him greatly.

…_Too much, too late, or just not enough of this  
Pain in my heart for your dying wish…_

…_And well I, I won't go down by myself,  
But I'll go down with my friends…_

The implications were clear to him. She was a Death Eater and singing about how horrible it was, maybe? It was her own fault, though. She didn't have to follow him, even if he was her father.

Her performance was followed with the claps a few people, but most of them Harry didn't know. The people he associated himself with didn't clap for Death Eaters.

Bridget was proud of herself for going first, but at the same time happy the whole ordeal was over. At least some people clapped, even if those people happened to not go by the name of Harry, though he was the one that forced her into this. Yet, for once he wasn't snarling at her. He seemed simply indifferent, for despite any hidden respect he showed for her voice, the fact that she was Voldemort's daughter still remained. Bridget did notice, after she turned away from Harry, that the person who was clapping the loudest, however, was a Gryffindor boy she'd sat next to who's name was Seth.

"Very good," Esmeralda praised. "Who would like to go next?"

"I'll go," Lillian said, raising her hand as she glanced at Bridget, smiling deviously. Bridget winked.

"Lillian Faith Potter, I had no idea you were so gutsy!" she jabbed, flipping her hair.

"Bridget Hope you're not the only one who's creative," Lillian retorted. Then she paused, a small blush appearing on her face to contrast against the red.

"Well, go on," Bridget encouraged.

"The boy had everything," Lillian started, finding a new sense of courage. "Money, looks, talent. He was good, not like the other boys. He was a reigning hope in a world of blackness.

"The girl had nothing. She murdered to live, to survive, filled with a hate that fueled. A hate, not just for others, but mostly for herself. The two had nothing in common. Except, that is-"

The ball rang, cutting Lillian off. Some of the glass groaned, wanting to hear more of the story. Bridget gave thumbs up to her friend before leaving her to be congratulated by her brother.

As Bridget was walking out of the room she was stopped by Seth, the boy she'd sat next to.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi."

"I didn't know if you knew, but my name's Seth."

"Bridget."

"I know," he laughed nervously. "Just wanted to introduce myself. Somebody should make you feel welcome here."

"Thanks," she replied, smiling genuinely. "I'll see you later," she added before walking towards her spot next to Draco across the room. He was the first person, aside from her cousin, who had been even remotely nice to her, and the thought sent butterflies rolling in her stomach.

"Who was that?" Draco demanded as soon as she sat down.

"A boy."

"A Gryffindor?" he asked, surprised.

"Apparently they aren't all pricks," she shrugged.

"Do you fancy him?"

"I barely know him!" Bridget shrieked, shocked that Draco gossiped like a girl.

"So? You could get to know. Then you guys could get married, and have tons of kids and-"

"Who are you marrying?" Lillian asked, coming over as she ignored Harry's glares in the distance. After realizing there was no way Harry was ever going to stop being a jerk to Bridget, Lillian had tried to make an effort to speak with her more often.

"Nobody," Bridget snapped, crossing her arms and pouting.

"Oh, are you guys talking about Harry?" Lillian teased.

"Potter?" Draco snorted into his drink.

"Shut up. That's not going to happen. Have you met him?"

"It's so glad to meet another person who hates him as much as I do," Draco sighed, snickering.

"It's just not in the cards, Lils. Sorry," Bridget shrugged.

She laughed then, ignoring the ugly look Lillian was giving her. Really, though, there was no way she could ever even be friends with him. Fate had chosen their paths, and from the moment the two teenagers were born it was clear. Bridget Hope Riddle and Harry James Potter were never meant to be anything more than enemies. It was who they were.

"Yes, but sometimes fate has a very twisted way of doing things. Sometimes it doesn't show us its plans right away. Have a little faith."

Bridget raised an eyebrow at her best friend, not knowing how to respond to that.


	9. Chocolate and a Veela

There were crashes and noises coming from somewhere in the castle. The more clever of the students thought they were under attack, and many gathered in the common room, huddling together in fear.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sprung up out of bed, prepared to face whatever was making the racket. Slowly, curiously, they made their way to the Great Hall, wondering exactly what was happening. There seemed to be a certain beat to the noises, almost like a strange sort of _music._

"Dammit, Bridget!" Harry exclaimed, fire burning in his eyes as he gazed upon the noise.

"She's bloody crazy, that one," Ron commented.

"I thought we were under attack! What the hell is wrong with her?" Harry ranted, his wand still brandished at her.

The girl was up, bewitching chocolate bars to dance about the room. Her laughter filled the hair, a strange cackle amounting to something Harry had never heard before.

"Is she on drugs?" Hermione asked, walking into the room.

"Hermione, stay out of there. You don't know what else she's capable of," Harry warned.

"Cocaine, actually," she retorted, strutting through the dancing chocolate. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to help the castle get some sleep. You've woken everybody up. Teachers will be coming soon," Ron explained, hopelessly trying to warn her. She shrugged, though.

"I'm not doing anything to hurt you. Go back to bed and mind your own business," she snapped, glaring. The music that was playing rather loudly stopped, the chocolate falling to the ground as it was ignored by the spell caster.

"You might be distracting us while an attack approaches," Harry suggested. Bridget laughed.

"Isn't this castle supposed to be protected?"

"I thought it was, but your little Death Eater friend got in," Harry jabbed, pressing his wand against her chest. Bridget inhaled quickly, but not because of the approaching dangers of the boy.

The boy happened to be right. A Death Eater had penetrating the walls of Hogwarts, and though he did no harm, who's to say another couldn't come? The protections were weakening, fading, Bridget could feel it. Danger could just prance right in at any moment.

"Students," came a voice from behind them.

"Professor!" Hermione exclaimed in shock as she noticed that along with a few stray classmates the Headmaster had finally arrived.

"I think now would be the appropriate time for all students to return to their appropriate dorms, with the exception of Ms. Riddle," he said calmly, though his silver blue eyes fell on Bridget in a way that made her thing she was in much trouble.

"Watch your back, Riddle. Not even Dumbledore can put up with you for much longer, traitor or not," Harry hissed before yanking his wand away from her body and going back upstairs with his friends.

Bridget bit her lip before running a hand through her hair. She was sobered up now, awaiting the punishment that would be thrust upon her.

"Yes, sir?" she asked, grinning brightly as she tried to hide her anxiousness.

"Is there a reason you have disrupted the castle in such a way as this?" he demanded, and for the first time since she'd met him traces of anger laced his voice.

"I get bored, I guess. Unlike everybody else I have no alibi. I have to keep up this evil image as well, especially now that Potter's pissed at me beyond reason. Plus, if I don't keep myself happy I'll die of depression," Bridget added, the light fading from her eyes. Dumbledore's face softened a bit, but his stance did not.

"Detention will be in order."

"Of course."

"And I take it this means tomorrow you'll be excused from your classes?"

Bridget gasped in shock. The words were coming slowly, her brain shutting down. How could Dumbledore have seen through her mask? How could he know that when things got bad she freaked out, hiding the pain and worry with crazy antics? How could he know that things were going especially bad at that moment?

"I have to go," she pleased, begging for him to understand. "And if that makes me the traitor I'm supposed to be then fine! Expel me!"

"I can not deny a father the chance to see his daughter, can I?" Dumbledore said casually, as if she was normal. As if her father was harmless.

"He's not my father," Bridget snapped, looking towards the ground. "He keeps me alive, but he's not family."

"I trust you, Ms. Riddle, when you say that you do not follow him. In any other case I would not allow this, but you have proven through character that you hold no desire to kill the way Lord Voldemort does.

"He is your father and you must got to him when he calls or face the consequences."

"Thank you, sir."

"I am hesitant to allow this to happen, often though, Ms. Riddle," Dumbledore said solemnly. "Keeping your wellbeing in mind, it is not safe to allow you to see him often. For now, though, it would be far more dangerous to forbid you."

"Thank you, sir," Bridget repeated. "And I'm sorry for tonight. It won't happen again."

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore mused. "Well, none of us can foresee the future."

--

Harry was befuddled.

He wanted so desperately to believe that Bridget Riddle was just as evil as her father, and intended to hurt him just as badly. However, ever since she arrived Harry could not make any valid accusations. She had done nothing to hurt him, aside stealing away a night's sleep. In fact, she had done nothing to hurt anybody.

She was certainly crazy beyond reasoning, and didn't hide it, but not evil. Very crazy, but not evil.

She didn't seem to care what other people though, either. She answered every insult with a witty comment and a smile. Maybe Lillian was right. Maybe she did rise above silly prejudices. Maybe she wasn't as bad as Harry made her out to be.

"I think you fancy her," Lillian stated that afternoon. Bridget had not shown up in any of her classes that day, and Harry hoped it was because of embarrassment. He cared only out of curiosity, though.

"Don't be stupid," Harry muttered. "I hate her." He did hate her. There was no waver in the dark feeling of dislike that raged inside of him.

"She could be your only hope. You never know," Lillian said, shrugging. Harry groaned.

"You really do have to get over that, you know? It's getting bloody annoying."

"What are little sisters for?"

--

Maybe it was because he was used to staying up late, or maybe he feared more chaos, but for whatever reason Harry Potter could not sleep that night.

He sat in the common room at four in the morning, staring out the window. Until, that is, he noticed somebody out by the lake. Quickly, he rushed out the door with nothing but his wand and ran to see who it was.

It was a girl, and she was singing. Something he didn't recognize, and Harry sighed. He was tired of not recognizing music. This music was soft and gentle, though, luring him in. As he got closer he could see the outline of the female in the darkness.

She sat, alone, her white looking Harry flowing in the wind. Her voice was beautiful, calming and calling him as he stepped forward.

She had to be a veela, he decided, remembering the way the strange creatures made him feel. He wasn't sure this emotion matched up, so maybe she was half, like Fleur Deloucour.

What was a veela, half or not, doing in Hogwarts, though? Harry sat down beside her anyway, his brain blanking. She had stopped singing, and instead wrote furiously in a notepad. The image made Harry laugh and she turned, realizing he was there.

Harry froze in shock.

By golly, a cliff hanger! Whatever are we going to do?


	10. The Beginning

"Harry, I haven't done anything to you and isn't it a little late? I'm really not in the mood to be bothered," she snapped, turning to face him angrily. Harry jumped back in shock. He did not realize-could not imagine that it was Bridget sitting outside. He hadn't seen her all day, so what was she doing out in the open now? The more disturbing thought, though, was the fact that just a few moments ago he'd found her beautiful.

"What are you doing here?"

"Adding melody to words. Your sister and I are quite the creative team, you know," Bridget explained, her voice sarcastic. She was being blunt with Harry, more candid than she had ever been before. "You know, you'll actually fine I'm a bit nocturnal. It's very peaceful out here at night, especially when nobody's around to criticize me."

As she finally met his eye, Harry frowned, not feeling the need to respond. He took the time to examine her body, noticing the well she held herself feebly. Her lip was bleeding, split right down the middle and through the moonlight he could see the blood that clung to them, now dry and dull. His eyes ran down the length of her body, noticing a large gash in her side, and a piece of her shirt wrapped around the leg closest to Harry.

She'd been hurt badly, Harry realized with a shock. Something had happened. Harry's mind immediately went to one place.

"Did he do that to you?"

"Why the sudden concern?" she asked evasively.

"I'm not _concerned._ I'm just wondering how Voldemort treats his daughter," Harry responded coolly, turning away. Who cared if she was hurt? She probably deserved it anyway.

"Harry, I'm not proud of him or what he does or what he stands for! If it means anything, I'm rooting for you. There has been enough death, but if death is the only way to solve this once and for all than so be it. I'd rather have one person die than many tortured."

"Even if he is your father?" Harry whispered, staring blankly into the lake. He was watching a particular fish, which kept jumping around, as if swimming on beat.

"Do you really think he has any paternal instincts? I mean, if there was one person in the word who should never have kids it would be him-unless you want to count his parents and blame them for making him," Bridget quipped.

"I'm scared," Harry blurted, feeling unsettled by Bridget's light attitude. Truth and worry wore heavy on their shoulders, but Harry couldn't bring himself to laugh or even think about making jokes. He didn't know how she could, but supposed it was something to get used to.

"Good. Voldemort's way to overconfident anyway. He makes mistakes and eventually it will be his downfall."

"I guess," Harry replied, followed by silence. The silence was sweet, though, as silence between strangers rarely is. There was not a need to speak, for both people knew there wasn't much to say. Enemies are careful with their words, wary of every move they make. It is simply much easier to stay silent, rather than risk slipping up.

"So what was with last night?" Harry finally asked, not being able to hold back. There were so many things he wanted to know about Bridget, so many questions she left unanswered.

"It keeps me happy. If I can find laughter, even in myself, then I have hope to carry on. Even if you and everybody else hates me for it.

"But you know what? Maybe it's better this way. Maybe there is a reason you're supposed to hate me. Maybe even if I wasn't the blood of a murderer people would avoid me, simply because of the way I act. And maybe that's a good thing. Every soul I touch is just another knife in my hands."

The sun was beginning to rise in the horizon, and Harry felt even more confused than before. Where was the evil he'd seen so plainly before? Was she acting or telling the truth? Luring him in or pushing him away?

"Hogwarts is beautiful, don't you think?" she spoke, suddenly, pulling Harry out of his reverie. "I've always wanted to come here, but I didn't want to face people like you."

Guilty swept over Harry. Could Lillian be right? Did she deserve the hell she was put through?

As light finally approached, Harry shook his head. The darkness had clouded his judgment. This was all probably part of the plan. She would lure him in before giving him over to Voldemort. She would kill him, however indirect it was.

"This doesn't change anything between us," Harry told her, standing up. The glare Bridget recognized was forever meant for her returned.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," she said with a smirk that greatly resembled Malfoy's. Harry sighed, walking off. He did not get far, though, before Bridget called him back.

"Hey, Harry! Am I more than you bargained for yet?"

"More than you know," he yelled back, shaking his head.

"Good," she teased before they finally took their separate paths.

Neither of them knew it, but they had just experienced the beginning of a friendship between enemies. A friendship like no other.

--

As Harry joined his friends in the great hall he could not get Bridget's words out of his head. Everything she'd said sounded so sincere, and it sent chills through his spine. He kept having to remind himself of the trap he knew it was, but it was hard not to fall for it. Bridget was good at what she did, whatever it was.

Lillian trusted her, though. His sister, his only family left, trusted his enemy with all her life. This, from the very beginning, had startled Harry. He knew nothing of their past together, but what had Bridget done to convince her of her loyalties? Had she spoken the same words she just told him? Was this all a carefully written script.

No, Harry didn't believe that. When she came he'd expected somebody similar to Malfoy, but Bridget reached a whole new level of confusing. Harry was sure he couldn't match up to it, even if he tried. He definitely couldn't understand it.

So it was best Harry stayed away from her from now on, then. He should release himself from the mysteries before he drowned in them. If he focused on the girl too much he'd lose sight of what was important, and that was not her.

--

Bridget tried to limp into the great hall. Her injuries were not subtle; Dumbledore had been right. It wasn't safe for her to see Voldemort. Maybe if she tried hard enough she could avoid him forever, locking herself in a closet. He'd never find her in a Hogwarts closet. He wouldn't think to look.

It wasn't plausible, though. Voldemort was furious, more so than usual. He was unhappy with the way things were turning out, and Bridget could sense action would be coming soon. Sooner than she expected, even.

Danger loomed in the distance and Bridget felt it in her very bones. There was no escaping this.

"Bee! Are you okay?" Lillian cried, jumping from her seat.

"Well-"

"You should go to the hospital wing," she said hurriedly, scanning over Bridget's body.

The danger was coming, though, and there was no time for this. She sensed it, smelled it, could taste the death on her tongue. Somebody had to be warned.

"Lils, no-" but she was interrupted by a crash as the walls of Hogwarts were penetrated again, Death Eaters flowing in.

* * *

Sorry, no veela, but I did leave you with a lovely cliffhanger! I know, fun, right?


	11. The End

Fight had broken out, all students from sixth year and up engaging in the battle. McGonagall had taken the younger students to a safe haven, leaving everybody else with questions and a will to survive.

The Death Eaters were not vicious, after something that wasn't worthy of a death toll. They would not hesitate to curse anybody who stood in their way, though. They were already weakened from breaking through the walls of Hogwarts, the fight not amounting to its full potential.

Bridget threw herself in the corner, eyes squeezing shut in terror. She refused to open them and watch as innocent peers fell at the hands of her father's followers. She could not fight this battle, after all. The girl could not fight against her own kind, but had vowed to never again side with the Death Eaters. Like a coward, she was left with the only option of hiding.

And yet, Bridget knew this was her fault. There was a reason her father hurt her last night, her rebellion angering him to great extents. He sent his followers, not for a fight, but to scare her. He was proving to her that the consequences for disobedience were not limited to her own body being beaten. There was so much more to lose.

"Having fun here?" a low voice hissed in her ear. Bridget's eyes widened in shock as she turned to face the owner of the sound.

"Well, if it isn't Robbie Robinson," she snickered. The Death Eater was just two years older than her, and ever since Bridget had reached puberty he had been trying to marry her in order to rise on the food chain. Bridget refused him every time, disgusted by his perverted actions.

"I take it you know why we're here," he mused, placing a sweaty hand on her cheek. Bridget glared, swatting him away.

"Yes, I know."

"He doesn't want you talking to Potter. You need to be loyal to the side you're on," Robbie stated, his face suddenly turning serious.

"Maybe that side isn't is," Bridget commented with a smirk. Robbie laughed, the sound hurting Bridget's ears.

"Your father won't like this," he warned, waving his index finger warningly.

"I don't care what my father thinks. He's a stalker, you know. Follows people around like a hound dog."

"You better keep you attitude in check, girl. You've lasted longer than most, but don't expect that privilege to prevail," he snapped, turning his wand upon her.

"Haven't I already been injured enough?" Bridget pouted. Robbie growled, frustrated. His place was not to hurt the daughter of his master, only to warn her.

"Just because-"

And he was interrupted by a scream.

--

"So how's your pathetic Godfather?" the voice taunted, sickenly sweet. "Oh, wait. Never mind, I forgot I killed that one off."

"Shut up!" Harry yelled, sending a curse her way. Bellatrix Lestrange blocked it smoothly, the sly grin not leaving her face.

"You're going to have to try harder than that, Potter," she hissed. "Crucio!"

Harry was just barely able to doge the curse, and the wave of hate inside of him was growing unbearable. He hated the women in front of him, down to every last tooth in her mouth, every last hair on her ugly head.

"I'll kill you for what you did to Sirius-" but Harry could not finish his sentence, for a flash of red had just passed before his eyes, an ear piercing scream stopping the hall. A body crashed to the floor, dead.

It did not take long for Harry to realize who it had been.

"Lillian!" a scream came from across the room, but Harry could not move, not turn to see who it was. A curse was shot, another thump as a body landed to the floor, but none of that mattered.

His sister, the one he'd only just met, was dead.

"Fools!" Bellatrix screamed from in front of him. "We were not supposed to hurt her! We were not supposed to kill!"

Chaos prevailed as the Death Eaters realized what had happened, that they had messed up, and they fled, fearing for their lives.

The fight was not supposed to come to it, and because of this they were all going to be severely punished.

But Harry did not care, for his sister was dead. His last bit of hope, his only family, gone.

He stood rooted the spot, staring ahead of him at the body, pale on the ground. Even as the rest of the Great Hall left, teachers hurrying to ensure their students of the peace, Harry could not move. He heard voices, but Harry didn't care.

His sister was dead.

"Albus-" McGonagall whispered from behind.

"Take Ms. Riddle to the hospital wing. She's fallen and hit her head. Madame Pomphrey must attend to her."

"And what about the Potters?" the teacher questioned, fear written in her features.

"After you are certain Ms. Riddle is safe, owl Stacey. Until she arrives, Hagrid will take care of the-" Dumbledore seemed to stumble on his words, his calm exterior falling.

"I will speak with Mr. Potter," he finished finally.

Harry could feel his headmaster place a weathered hand on his shoulder, and will a great force of will be tore his eyes away from the scene. He did not want a better look at her. He did not want to see Hagrid crying as he raised her off the ground. He did not want to imagine the wall her limbs would fall limp, her hair dead and stringy. He did not want to imagine the way her body would look, perfect but dead, the effects of a curse that killed.

"Why?" was the first word that escaped his lips, followed by a sob. "Why her? I'd just met her and suddenly she," he words faltered, pain mixing with anger. "Bridget," he hissed, seething. "If it wasn't for her-"

"Ms. Riddle did not cause this. The blame shall fall on nobody but Lord Voldemort."

"I didn't even see," Harry choked. "Who…"

"Knowing will not help you, Harry. Blame will not heal the pain, it will only fuel the anger."

"Why?" he repeated again, not bothering to hide the tears.

"She will reside in the hospital wing, if you would like to see her," Dumbledore told Harry, sympathy clear in his watery blue eyes.

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Both of them, Mr. Potter. Is it not both of them you would like to see?"

So Harry turned, feeling as if his mind could no longer control his actions as he walked towards the hospital wing. He stood outside the room for hours, not wanting to face what he never wished happened. The crying did not stop, even when he heard the strange voice from inside. Could Lillian still be alive? Was it possible?

No, Harry would no fill himself with false hope. Voldemort had stolen his parents, his innocence, his childhood, and how he'd taken away his sister. There was no family left, excluding the Dursleys.

There was nobody left.

--

"You were not supposed to touch her," Voldemort seethed, pacing. Robbie shuddered in fear. It was a rare occasion to see the Dark Lord face to face, and Robbie was certain it was not a good thing he was here now.

"It was an accident. I d-didn't mean t-to," he stuttered in one last desperate attempt to save himself.

"Crucio!" Voldemort yelled and Robbie was engulfed in the pain of the curse.

"What about Malfoy?" he whimpered.

"What about him?" Voldemort asked, his anger still not quenched.

"He k-killed the girl. He killed the girl!"

"His punishment is being dealt with."

"P-please," Robbie whimpered before losing consciousness.

Lord Voldemort sat down, crossing his long, white fingers together and leaning back.

The attack was a warning, but no death was to come upon them. Voldemort could sense it, feel it in his bones, that his daughter was leaving him. She was slowly fading away, turning against him, his worst fear.

With the death of the friend she held so dear, the betrayal would only come faster. Voldemort knew, as soon as he could, that amends must be made. He must divert her attention, keeping her far away from Potter and fueling the hate for him. He must show her where she belongs, on his side.

"Severus," Voldemort called. His faithful follower immediately walked in.

"She is healing. The school nurse predicts she will be as good as new by morning."

"Is she conscious?"

"I am unaware of that, but it is not expressed how she's taking the death of Potter."

"Keep her close with Malfoy's son. Keep her far from Potter. Watch her, Severus, for if she strays I will not hesitate in letting the blame fall on you.

"Yes sir," Severus Snape responded, and not even he could realize the immense importance of the situation.

* * *

Fear not, for this isn't really the end. We've still got about 100 chapters to go...


	12. Never Change the Way You Are

Now, in this chapter the song Bridget hums-and the one line from it-is "Hello" by Evanescence.

* * *

Bridget eyes opened slowly as she struggled to regain consciousness. The night air hurt her eyes along with looking out the window where the moon shone brightly in. She groaned, sitting up slowly as she checked the clock. Except, unlike every other early morning she'd woken up, there was no clock. There was a small table with a vase of wildflowers on it, but no clock.

Everything came crashing down.

Bridget was in the hospital wing. She remembered the attack, remembered Robbie attacking her, remembered-

Lillian.

Bridget shook with pain, her heart collapsing within itself. She felt like she was going to throw up.

"No, no, she can't be dead," Bridget muttered, running a hand through her hair only to find it was bloody from where she hit her head. It had to be a mistake, though. Why would they come kill her? What had she done to them?

Maybe Bridget had dreamt it. What was the last thing she remembered before the attack? Strings of conversation flowed in and out of her brain, scattering about in confusion.

Harry. She had spoken with Harry after coming home from her father's.

That was it! It had all been a dream. Voldemort had hurt her enough that she was unconscious for a couple a days, probably. It had all been a horrid dream.

Bridget jumped up, ready to return to her own room. The nightmare was over.

It wasn't, though. In a corner of the room there lay a bed, the body laying in it covered with a sheet. _Lillian. _Scattered students lay about as well, injured from the fight.

Reality came crashing.

She distracting herself by finding a bathroom. She looked like a mess and took the time to clean blood off her hands and hair. She still didn't look very good, but it was better than before.

She couldn't just go back to bed, though. Not now. She settled herself by the window, staring outside at the ground as she begun to sing.

_Has no one told you she's not breathing?_

"I'm sorry."

Bridget turned around with her eyes closed. She did not want to look at the boy in front of her. She didn't want to see the pain on his tearstained face or the anger and hurt that lingered in his emerald eyes. She didn't want to see anything anymore.

"It's not your fault," she whimpered. "None of it is. And I'm sorry. She was your sister," Bridget exhaled, struggling to keep herself to together.

"You aren't crying. Why aren't you crying? She was your best friend," Harry asked with a hint of anger in his voice. Bridget frowned.

"I lost that ability a long time ago. It hurts so bad, but…I've seen a lot of death and I just can't cry anymore," Bridget explained solemnly as she opened her eyes. Harry was closer than she expected, not even a foot away. He'd placed a mask of confusion on his face, probably the hide everything else he had to be feeling.

"She was your best friend," Harry repeated.

"He was my brother," she murmured without exactly knowing why. She shouldn't tell Harry so much, not when he hated her the way he did.

"What?"

"I had a brother, once. We were twins before Voldemort feared our power and took him away. I don't know where he is now, if he's even alive." Harry's mouth opened in shock. How many people had she lost? How many people would Voldemort continue to take away? Was there no end?

"I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be. Not many people do now and besides, we've all lost something." Bridget laughed, a cold heartless laugh, even though nothing was funny. Silence clouded the room, and Bridget turned her head towards the window. The night was silent, but lit up, scaring her a little. From all angles danger could attack, it seemed. There was no longer a safe place to hide and Bridget questioned whether it was a good idea to come to Hogwarts in the first place.

Harry could not prevent himself from staring at Bridget. She looked terrible, the injuries from last night lingering bluntly to match the blood in her blonde hair, the gash on her head. She was strong, though, stronger than he'd ever imagined. She'd seen things, constantly seen things, nobody should ever have to see. Voldemort had toughened her up, prepared her in a way nobody should need to be prepared.

Yet, in her misery, she was beautiful. The moonlight shone down on her skin, making it chalky and what parts of her hair were not tainted by blood were stringy white looking. She looked almost like a ghost, roaming the night in search for something. Because, though she did not cry, the pain was obvious in her features. She kept opening and closing her eyes, slowly, as if trying to wake herself up from a nightmare.

"She's not gone," she breathed in desperation. "Those you love never truly leave."

"Bridget?"

"Yeah?"

"Never change the way you are, not for anybody."

"I don't plan on it," Bridget told Harry, turning to face him once more. There was a weak smile on her face, and even though it didn't reach her eyes it was the most genuine smile Harry had ever seen on her.

"We'll beat him," Harry reassured. "Somehow, we'll win."

"Thank you."

"You should clean yourself up, though. Take a shower and I'll see you in the great hall," Harry sighed, turning to walk away. He didn't look back to see her reaction, didn't think about looking around for Lillian. He'd come to see her, after all. In a way, though, she'd been with them. In spirit, maybe she never left.

--

When Bridget finally entered the shower she turned it up as hot as possible. It burned her skin, but she didn't feel it. She was too consumed in thought to notice much of anything. For two nights in a row now, Harry and Bridget had had a conversation, however dysfunctional and tragic the circumstances were. Then, he'd said he would "see her in the great hall."

What did that mean? Did that mean, in some weird way, they were friends? No, he had to have just been being nice.

As she walked towards breakfast her stomach rumbled, and Bridget realized it had to have been at least a day since she'd last eaten. Had she really been out all of yesterday?

She sung a song as she walked, the music sounding sweet. It kept her sane a lot of the time, and it was a good thing Bridget always had her voice to stay with her, for without it she would be lost.

She held some books as she walked, thoughts consumed with her best friend.

Over and over, before she…_left, _she had joked about Bridget and Harry. The two of them had denied everything, knowing for a fact that there was no possible way they could be civil with another. How ironic it was, though, that in her death they were speaking more and more often. Had Lillian gotten what she wanted?

Did Lillian know something they did not? Did she walk into death, knowing it would bring together the two most unlikely people in the world? Together, could these two people defeat Voldemort once and for all? Was that the plan all along?

There was no way of asking, but Bridget knew her best friend pretty well.

Plus, her instinct was telling her she was right.


	13. Breathe

The song in this chaper is sung by Michelle Branch, and like the chapter title, is called "Breathe"

* * *

Ron was torn between a depression that can only come from great loss and a happiness that can only come from a great gain.

This troubled Ron, for he was not one for dealing with many complex emotions. He knew what he knew, believed what he believed, and there was only that. Hermione said he had "the emotional capacity of a teaspoon," and while that may be true Ron didn't mind. He was glad to not have to deal with all those issues Hermione tried to explain to him.

Now, apparently, was not like usual though. Lillian Potter, his best friend's sister, was dead. The three of them were at a loss of what to say, that morning, for nothing felt right. Without her, though she had only been there for a short time, their group felt incomplete.

Yet, it is only with great loss that there may come great gain and so it was that breakfast, only twenty-four hours after her death, that great gain came upon them.

Bridget Riddle felt as if all eyes were on her when she entered the great hall, but she tried to ignore them the best she good. After a while it would fade and she could find her haven hidden in a sea of Slytherins. It was, in a sense, like any other day.

Except it wasn't like any other day, for to everyone's great surprised Harry's arm raised lazily and he waved her over. So, not wanting to be impolite, Bridget sat down next time, leaving the group of three at an even more loss of words than before.

It felt as if introductions should be made, despite the fact that the four had already met. Names were known, identities placed to a face.

"You guys shouldn't be talking to me," Bridget said softly, gazing down unhappily at her empty plate. "You could get hurt."

"The same goes for you. But I think it's safe to assume we're already in enough danger as it is," Ron chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, kicking him. The boy winced, his face turning a light shade of red.

"You two are so cute," Bridget squealed, a smile appearing.

"What?" Ron gasped, choking on a piece of bacon.

"Like soul mates."

"We're just dating, mate," Ron exclaimed, eyes wide in worry.

"So were Romeo and Juliet."

"Romeo and Juliet died, Bridget," Hermione defended, eyebrow raised. Bridget frowned.

"Details."

An awkward silence fell, contrasting how easily they seemed to be getting along. It was like they had known each other for a long time. Bridget almost wished they had. It felt nice to belong.

The truth still remained that none of them really knew each other, though, so Bridget searched the hall, looking for Draco. Once she found him she waved, pleased to be so casual with somebody else.

"How can you stand to be cousins with him?" Ron asked finally.

"I actually prefer it this way," Bridget stated.

"Why?" Harry blurted, the first words he'd spoken since she came over, even though it was he who invited her.

"Because since we're related we haven't shagged and nobody's trying to force marriage upon us."

"Oh, well, I see how that can be a bonus!" Hermione said, her voice turning an octave higher. Bridget laughed, but the sound seemed out of place.

"Look, Harry started. "Before we start talking, I mean really, show us you wrists."

"Harry," Hermione sighed disappointedly.

"It's fine. There isn't much to see anyway," Bridget obliged, rolling up her sleeves. The stared carefully, watching as an image appeared on their skin. Harry opened his mouth to accuse her before realizing the imagine was not the dark mark. It was not what he had been looking for, or expecting.

"What is that?" Ron questioned, his voice filled with something resembling disgust.

"Tattoo. I'm a rebel," she joked, rolling her eyes. "Besides, you can't brand me when I'm already branded."

"Was he mad?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Furious!" Bridget exclaimed proudly. "So, I know Ron and Hermione got something going on, but what about you, Harry? Snape agreed to go out with you yet?" Bridget teased suddenly, biting her lip.

"Um, no. I don't fancy anybody, especially Snape," Harry said, his nose wrinkled in abhorrence. It was the truth, as well. Harry had decided a long time ago that girls weren't worth his trouble. He didn't want to face the nervousness he got when talking to one he liked, and then actually really liking her and having to tell her how much danger she was in. A girlfriend was not in the cards for Harry Potter.

"Too bad," she pouted in a mimicry voice.

"Bridget, you're bleeding!" Hermione exclaimed. "Your stomach…"

"Oh, it's uh nothing. Are you guys okay, though? The fight was-"

"You really should go to the hospital wing. Doesn't it hurt?" Hermione interjected.

"I have to go. But don't worry, I'll be fine!" Bridget said hurriedly before getting up and striding out. Hermione's mouth opened, confusion written all over her face.

"Should we go after her?" Ron suggested, but nobody replied. "Well, I am."

So Ron got up, ignoring breakfast for the first time in a long time, and followed the mysterious blonde out of the great hall.

"Bridget, wait!"

"Ron?" she asked, turning around.

"Why'd you just leave?" he questioned, concerned.

"I just…felt as if I had to leave. Things are fine with you guys, and I'm really thankful for you finally not hating me, but when things get tough you know it will go back to the way it was before. I just…" Bridget rambled. She didn't really know how to explain why she left, why she felt she had to keep things secret.

"I believe you, you know," Ron stated bravely, looking the girl straight in the eye. "Even before, I believed you. I knew you weren't all…bad. It's just that Harry's my best mate and I couldn't say anything."

"Thanks," Bridget whispered. "I understand."

"Hey, so I hear you're a pretty good singer!" Ron stated, changing the subject. "Can I hear?"

"Sure," Bridget laughed, shaking her head awkwardly. "Would you like to be accompanied by a guitar?"

"Yeah! I've never seen a guitar before. What's-"

"Let's go to my room and find out, Ronald."

When they arrived in Bridget's room Ron's jaw dropped, his mouth forming a perfect "O"

"You are so lucky."

"It's not that big of a deal," Bridget squirmed, embarrassed.

"This was probably a teacher's room before. We don't have rooms this nice."

"Sorry," Bridget apologized.

"It's alright. Not your fault, I guess. Well, go on and play then!"

So Bridget played, digging through a magical bag and pulling out a guitar. She performed with little flaw, her voice hitting some pretty intense notes. Ron was amazed at the passion she put into her music, never knowing anybody to be like that about anything.

_So just give me one good reason  
Tell me why I should stay  
'Cause I don't wanna waste another moment  
in saying things we never meant to say_

"Bloody brilliant!" Ron shouted, clapping. His claps were interrupted, however, by a nock at the door before somebody walked in.

"Weasley."

"Malfoy."

"Oh God," Bridget sighed.

"Bridget, what are you doing?" Malfoy demanded, glaring.

"Because he was nice to me. And because I wanted to. So play nice."

"Um, maybe I should go-" Ron started.

"You don't have to. I _think_ Draco can behave."

"No, it's alright. I have to find Harry anyway. He's probably grumpy right now and it's unfair to leave Hermione with him.

"How noble," Draco mocked. "I was just checking up on you, though. I have to be somewhere now too."

So suddenly, both boys were gone, leaving Bridget alone.

--

"You shouldn't have followed her, especially not alone. She's hiding something!" Harry grumbled, frustrated with his red-headed friend.

"Harry, she's nice. Besides, you're the one who invited her to sit with us."

"She obviously didn't want to," Harry muttered.

"She's upset and confused. She really want to just get along with you, mate."

"She could be lying. She could be a spy," Harry defended.

"Your sister trusted her," Ron stated pointedly, giving Harry a look. Harry turned around, a glare placed securely in his eyes. If Ron was going to be like that fine, he didn't have to talk to him.

He ignored the feeling that Ron was right.


	14. The Ring

It's a shame, you'll find, how I can never manage to keep my characters alive and/or happy. We fight for hours on end and sometimes, I admit, they do win. But most of the time they lose. Pitifully.

* * *

The train was extra loud the day two students rode it, traveling away from Hogwarts and back into London. It rattled on and on, a never ending sound that would forever be burned into the memory of the students. Never before had they realized how loud the train actually was, because before they had always been too distracted with conversation.

Then again, neither of them had left in the middle of a semester, either.

The students, in their silence, worse only black. Color was drained even from their faces, composure holding them together like thin thread. They ignored the truth of their destination, a funeral neither wanted to attend. A funeral neither wanted to happen.

The weather, when they arrived, was cold. Clouds hung over the meadow in which it was held, a calming place to all who missed the girl. Not many attended, for the particular death was not known among many, and in fact, the girl was not either.

Fall leaves fell from trees, dancing to the ground. They ruffled in the breeze, adding color to the dull event. Maybe the girl, dead as she was, would have liked that. She was colorful herself, down to the hair on her head, which shone a vibrant red.

Words were spoken about the girl, but the two particular students sat in silence without really listening. Words could not save her now. Yet, word were all they had left.

"She was my best friend," the female student spoke, when it was her turn. She was lucky to have gotten that chance and immediately felt guilty for not listening to what others had said before her. "She looked past things that weren't important, like background and appearance. She saw what was in you heart, a talent I'm afraid to say not many possess. And even then she did not judge. Her own heart was pure, and if any heart did deserve judging rights it was her.

"But I loved her and I will miss her forever."

The male student cried, a contrast to how many thought it should be. It was not often one saw a man cry, and it was a very delicate matter when he did so. Yet, the male student let the tears fall freely, while the female maintained complete composure, as if she was not affected. It made many uneasy.

"She was my sister, and even though I didn't know her as long as others, I loved her like the family she was. I was blessed to have known her, for she was kind and faithful. I loved her and I will miss her forever."

Respect rang true for the male, every listener knowing his story. He felt bitter about this, realizing that while they may all know the facts they would never understand the amount of loss he was put through. Pain was not an emotion that could be shared easily, even if misery did love company.

So, the funeral was over before it started and the students were back on their train, heading to school. It felt strange to be returning to normal life, though they both supposed their lives weren't as normal as they should be. To them, normal was what most would call strange.

This journey, however, was different from the first. During this journey, the female spoke.

"After your house was destroyed your parents' friends tried to save as much as they could. It was decided, almost without discuss, that it would be stored with Stacey. At the time, she was the most stable.

"What Lillian and I could find of their belongings is in this box. I asked Stacey to bring it because I thought you deserved to have it. Don't worry, I didn't look, only listened when Lillian explained some things."

Bridget said this all very slowly, choosing her words very carefully. She felt perfect composure, not faltering in her words no matter how much she wanted to just break down. The day had been already emotionally draining enough, though, and she did not want to add to it.

Harry opened the box, watching carefully as Bridget averted her eyes. He did not speak as he looked through the things, finding his mother's diary, some old photos, and some of her perfume. Even some old Quidditch things lingered at the bottom, lonely from not being used for so long.

Then, Harry noticed, a small velvet box at the bottom. Curious, for it was not like anything else he had seen, he picked it up. It felt smooth to the touch and fragile in his hands. Carefully, he opened it to be faced with the most beautiful ring he had ever seen.

His head snapped up, eyes meeting Bridget's solemn ones. At some point she had given up trying to ignore him and simply settled with staring.

"It's the family ring, apparently," she told him, smiling encouragingly. "The woman who receives again will be very lucky, I'd imagine."

Harry frowned, still not being able to bring himself to speak. He closed the box carefully, placing it at the top instead of the bottom again. He was fairly certain he would never have to use it, but there was something magical about holding his mother's engagement ring. Had his ancestors really all worn this, passing it along as strong males were born?

"Thank you," he finally managed, matching her intense gaze cautiously. "You've been a real friend, even though I…"

"You're welcome. And I forgive you."

"Good," Harry said, and then added. "Truce?" He offered his hand.

"Sure," she agreed, clasping hands with him. They shook, a strange feeling settling in the stomachs.

The male and the female smiled.

--

"Who are you taking to the dance?" Bridget asked teasingly as the walked to class. That morning Dumbledore had announced a Halloween dance. Bridget couldn't believe it was already the end of October. Had she really been attending school for that long? It felt like no time at all.

"Nobody," Harry grumbled. "How sad is that?"

"Very said," Bridget agreed, nodding. "But want to know something happy?"

"Sure."

"It's our one week anniversary!" Bridget exclaimed, her eyes brightening. Harry chuckled, shaking his head.

"Of what?"

"Our friendship, of course," Bridget huffed, rolling her eyes. She did not add what it also was-the one week anniversary of Lillian's funeral.

"Hurray," Harry said in monotone.

"I'm offended by your lack of enthusiasm. Don't deny that this week has been the best of your life, now that I'm around."

"Hopefully this will only be a temporary arrangement."

"One can only imagine," Bridget murmured, quickening her stride as she headed to class. Things were still a bit uneasy with Harry on occasion. They still argued frequently, and their annoyance ran high if too much time was spent together.

However, with Ron it was much different.

Bridget and Ron never fought, favoring casual jokes and lazy conversation.

"You seen happy," he commented as Bridget stole Harry's spot next to him. The boy glared, settling with the seat behind them.

"I ran this morning."

"Well, that explains it!" Ron quipped.

"So are you and Hermione going dancing?" Bridget asked randomly.

"Maybe. I dunno…" Ron trailed off.

"Are you nervous?" she demanded, eyes widening.

"No!" Ron defended. "Are you going?"

"No way. I'm too cool for dances."

"Then we'll probably just hang out with you then," Ron decided, nodding. "Yeah."

"Whatever you say, Ronald."


	15. Dance Night

So this chapter, before I went through and edited it was the SAME amount of words as the previous chapter. Weird, huh? I know.

Anyway, now that we're done with that fun fact...on with the story!

* * *

Harry Potter, Bridget Riddle, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were the only students in the Gryffindor common room that evening.

"It's beautiful," Bridget breathed breathing in the first moments over entering the room. "Are you sure this is okay?"

"Yeah," Hermione confirmed. "Nobody's going to mind."

Bridget nodded, eyes sparkling with wonder. The four sat down in front of a slowly burning fire. The flames dancing off their features. On any other night the common room would be full, filled with chattering students happy about the end of the week, complaining about homework, and sharing the latest gossip. Tonight, however, was the night of the Halloween Dance, something most of the student body had been waiting for since the moment it was announced.

"I feel sort of lame," Bridget admitted, laughing nervously. "We have to be the only ones not at the dance."

"That's okay," Ron assured her. "I thought maybe we should take this time to get to know you a little better."

Bridget raised an eyebrow, crossing her legs and leaning in. "You planned this," she accused, the echo of a smirk appearing on her lips. Ron raised both eyebrows, putting on his best innocent look. Bridget hit him.

"I'm a cancer?"

"What?" Ron asked, confused.

"You know, horoscopes?"

"What's a herocope?"

"Never mind, Ron," Harry interjected, figuring that there were times when it was best not to explain muggle things to Ron. Hermione rolled her eyes, exhaling a large sigh.

"So, who's your mum?" Ron blurted.

"Ron, please," Hermione sighed in exasperation. Bridget winced.

"You don't have to talk about it," Ron amended, turning a shade of red.

"No, it's okay. The thought of Voldemort and somebody actually-ugg," she shuddered. "It's not a fun thought." The other three echoed their agreements. "But it's Bellatrix Lestrange."

"You have got to be kidding me," Harry growled.

"What?"

"That bitch is your mum?" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

"I-Oh," Bridget froze in recognition. "Sorry."

"Isn't she married?" Ron asked, frowning. Bridget shrugged.

"I guess. But once again the actual act isn't something I think about. I don't really see her often, either. Voldemort isn't into sharing."

"You don't look anything like her," Hermione breathed.

"Yeah, I got the blonde gene. I look more like a Malfoy than a Riddle, actually."

"You sure it wasn't Malfoy's mum then?"

"Not exactly," Bridget admitted, an uncertain look appearing on her face. "I don't really care, though. She did nothing more than offer me looks."

"That she did," Ron agreed, blushing. Bridget laughed.

"You look like a tomato," she giggled.

"I hate my hair," Ron grumbled, mussing it with his hand. "Red hair is annoying."

"You hate your hair? At least you don't have some creepy scar on your forehead?" Harry complained.

"Oh, come on you two. Simple spells can fix hair colors. And if Harry really wanted to cover it up…"

"Um, I don't think spells can heal cursed scars," Harry mumbled, looking down.

"But if you found the right shade of foundation-"

"I'm not wearing make-up!" Harry exclaimed. The group giggled.

"Why are you so crazy?" Hermione asked through her laughter.

"It's easier than being normal," Bridget said bluntly.

"Speaking of normal," Ron coughed. "Hermione and I are actually going to check out the dance."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, blushing. "I'm not even dressed appropriately.

"You look beautiful all the time 'Mione. Don't worry, we won't stay long," Ron said, smiling. The couple had seemed to turn a permanent shade of red. Harry and Bridget turned to each other, sharing an amused glance.

"Ron…" Hermione complained, but took he hand anyway as they walked away. As soon as they left the room, Bridget let out the snickers she'd been stifling.

"They are too adorable. I'm jealous."

"Why? Do you like Ron?" Harry teased. Bridget shook her head vigorously.

"I'm not jealous because Hermione has Ron. I'm jealous because they have somebody. I want that," Bridget confessed.

"Why?" Harry blurted.

"Why?" Bridget laughed. "Because you wouldn't want that? Who wouldn't want to love and be loved like that?"

"Me," Harry mumbled.

"Why?" Bridget mimicked, her pitch matching Harry's.

"Because it's pointless for somebody like me. It's too dangerous and confusing and not something I want to distract myself with."

"You could always find somebody who's just as dangerous and distracting as you are," Bridget suggesting, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Easier said than done."

"Harry," Bridget sighed, shaking her head. "When you die don't you want to look back on your life and remember good things? Or do you want regrets because you never tried anything?"

Harry didn't answer, instead choosing the comfortable atmosphere of silence. Harry took the time, like he did that night in the hospital, to watch Bridget. It was very similar to that night, in the sense that Bridget was looking out the window, legs crossed and face composed.

She also held the remains of injuries that hadn't seemed to bother her. Harry let his face turn to confusion, realizing that she never once complained about the hurt that should have been felt through all the cuts and scratches on her body.

"Why don't you acknowledge your injuries?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Harry-"

"Are you Bridget Riddle?" a boy interrupted and Bridget let out a sigh of relief. She wouldn't have to explain.

"Yes. Why?"

"Draco Malfoy's outside and he wants to see you."

"Oh, ok," Bridget nodded, a bit surprised. "I'll be right back then, Harry."

She jumped up, heading over to the opening, curious as to why Malfoy would go to the trouble to find her at this hour of night. Shouldn't he be at the dance with some hopeless girl?

"What is it?" she asked, seeing her cousin leaning against the wall outside. He smirked.

"Just checking up on you. Didn't see you at the dance."

"Didn't want to go."

"Rather spend your time alone with Potter?" Draco demanded, glaring. Bridget matched his glare perfectly, their faces almost identical to each other.

"Would you rather me have gone to the dance with him?"

"Are you admitting you fancy him?" Draco questioned, a look of shock on his face.

"No!" Bridget defended. "We are friends, sort of. Now behave yourself. I'm going to bed," Bridget finished, shoving past him as she headed back to her own room. She'd talk to Harry tomorrow, not feeling in the mood for company anymore.

--

"Harry!" Ginny Weasley giggled, coming to sit next to him. She a tight dress and Harry wondered exactly where she'd gotten it. He was thankful Ron wasn't in the room, because it was clear Ginny was still a little exited from the dance.

"Hey Gin," Harry greeted.

"I had so much fun at the dance. You should have come," she laughed. "But anyway, I heard the greatest gossip."

"What is it?" Harry asked, sighing.

"You know Seth, the guy in your year?"

"Sure."

"He totally fancy's Bridget," she exclaimed, snorting.

"Have you been drinking?" Harry asked. Ginny shook her head, but her eyes told a different story.

"Just had to tell you about Seth because apparently everybody's talking about you and Bridget staying up here alone instead of the dance," Ginny finished before heading off to her friends. Harry frowned, annoyed that the school could be so superficial.

Speaking with Bridget was going to turn into a lot of gossip than it was worth.


	16. Boys

Harry was beginning to get used to the feeling of constant drowsiness, so it was strange that he felt extra tired that morning. For once who rarely got a full night's sleep it was awkward to be so completely drained in the morning. After a while you just forgot that feeling.

So, Harry hoped since he was so tired and all, that luck would be in his favor that morning, and allow him to have a peaceful meal before forcing himself off to class.

"Harry!" the voice squealed from behind him as a body rammed into his backside, arms wrapping around his torso. Harry struggled to remain standing, off balance from the collision. "Can you believe it?"

He was a fool to think he could get away with a peaceful _anything._

"Believe what, Bridget?" he asked in monotone. She only laughed, shoving a wrinkled _Prophet_ in his face.

"Just read."

_It was always assumed, once the world found out about You-Know-Who's daughter, that she would be following in his footsteps, rising to power to assist in his reign. There was never a second thought to the fact that the offspring of evil would only be just as evil, if not more. _

_Harry Potter, our great defender, does not seem to agree. Recent recourses tell me he's been canoodling with the Riddle girl, a strong proof that the boy is either mad or correct. Could the girl we all thought evil actually be on Potter's side? Turn to page 36D to find out…_

"What the bloody hell does canoodling mean?" Harry questioned, throwing the paper back.

"I have no idea, but don't you know? I'm not evil anymore!"

"Oh, well I'm glad you let the beliefs of a newspaper run your life," Harry commented.

"You're just jealous because you aren't the only one that loves me anymore," Bridget sung, dancing around Harry. She was giving him a headache, moving quickly and constantly.

"I never loved you in the first place. Your existence is an annoyance to my daily life," Harry groaned, wondering how fast he could reach the great hall and then dump her over to Ron. Ron was much better at controlling her anyway.

"That was rude. We're breaking up," Bridget said, pouting. Harry rolled his eyes, noticing that he was finding himself doing that more and more often.

"But we were never together!"

"Liars go to hell, Harry. _Hell,"_ she told him, stressing her words.

"Can you please just act normal for once? Or at least until you've got somebody else to bother? I'm not really up to playing your games this morning," Harry grumbling, not caring if he was being rude. Where did she get all this energy anyway?

"You're never up to playing my games," Bridget complained, crossing her arms in mock frustration.

"Maybe that should tell you something."

"Well it does say a great deal about your character, Harry, and-"

"They're bickering again," Ron sighed into the ear of his girlfriend.

"Maybe we should count how many times that happens in a day," Hermione suggested, eyes bright with amusement.

"It would be easier to count the times they have an actual conversation."

"Do you think she aims for this?"

"She can hear you, you know," Bridget said, turning away from a grumpy Harry.

"Oh, I know," Ron chuckled. "So do you then?"

"Not really. It's just so easy that I don't have to try," she shrugged, glancing at Harry.

"What started it this time?" Hermione asked curiously. A grin immediately spread across Bridget's face.

"Oh, you'll never believe it! The paper loves me now."

"I'm going to class," Harry groaned, getting up. Divination-that morning's torture-was better than hearing that story again.

--

"So, Hermione, what's it like to have a boyfriend?" Bridget asked once Ron had joined Harry in divination. Hermione blushed, an act that happened often when her boyfriend was mentioned.

"It's great," she admitted.

"I want one so bad," Bridget whined.

"You'll get one," Hermione assured her, smiling.

"But I want one like Ron. I mean, not like Ron, because no offense but Ron's a terrible boyfriend-"

"None taken. I know he is."

"-but I want it to be like a fairy tale. I want it to be perfect, true, epic love."

"Now Bridget, you know there isn't love like that," Hermione warned her, her face becoming serious.

"Why not?" she complained.

"Because life isn't perfect and neither is love."

"It should be."

"Well look," Hermione amended. "I have some good news."

"What?" Bridget asked, suddenly becoming enthusiastic again.

"You know Seth? He's Gryffindor, in our year?"

"Yeah, I know him."

"Well, I was talking to Ginny and she said that Dean told her that he heard from Seamus that Seth fancies you," Hermione told her.

"You're joking! I've only had, like, one conversation with him!" Bridget shrieked, though her eyes were alit with excitement.

"Maybe it was love at first sight," Hermione mused.

"You're lying."

"Am not. Ask Harry. Ginny told him too," Hermione defended.

Bridget bit her lip, running a hand through her hair. Seth? No, it wasn't true. She wouldn't bring her hopes up like that.

Okay, maybe she would. A girl could dream, right?

--

"Harry?" Seth, a boy in his year, hissed from across the table.

"What?" Harry snapped, still grumpy from this morning. Plus, the sleepy room of the Divination classroom was not aiding in helping him stay awake. He yearned to just go back to sleep and ditch the rest of his classes.

"You aren't dating Bridget, are you?" Seth asked nervously.

"Nope."

"Does she like anybody?"

"Nope."

"Do you want to go out with Cho Change?"

"Nope."

"Do you say anything else?" Seth demanded, becoming annoyed.

"Nope."

"So you wouldn't have a problem if I asked her out, right?"

"Nope."

"Great! You think she'll say yes?"

"Nope."

"Harry, come on," Seth begged. "Give me _something." _

"Look, Seth, I'm not her best girlfriend. And while Bridget sure does tell me lots of information I never wanted to know who she fancies is not one of those things. I don't like her, we aren't going out, so go ahead and try your chances. Just don't involve me," Harry ranted, hoping that would shut Seth up. Once again, luck seemed to be against him, because it didn't work.

"Ha! I got you to say something else!" Seth exclaimed proudly. Harry glared and Seth backed away, too distracted with the possibility that Bridget might say yes to bother himself with speaking with Harry anymore.

Harry, who was still annoyed and tired, did not seem to be having the best of days, so it was a relief when Divination finally ended.

It was not a relief when he met up with Hermione and Bridget again before their next class.

"He does not like me.

"Does too!"

"Does not!"

"Who doesn't like you?"

"Oh god," Harry groaned. Sometimes he really hated his friends.

"Seth fancies Bridget," Hermione explained, taking her boyfriend's hand. Ron grinned mischievously.

"Does he?"

"No!" Bridget yelled. "Right Harry?"

"Nope," Harry mumbled. She glared, not knowing what to make of that.

"He's grumpy, isn't he?"

"Well, okay, putting that aside, do you fancy him?" Hermione asked.

"Um. No idea."

"Alright, would you rather shag Harry or Seth?" Ron asked.

"If you say me I'll curse you," Harry warned, glaring.

"Seth it is!"

* * *

Haha, I love grumpy!Harry I had forgotten how unpleasant he could be.


	17. How the Greatest Loves Start

And here begins the cycle that gives me a headache everytime I force myself to write it. Beware ahead!

* * *

Bridget wasn't just late. She was Alice-in-Wonderland-stopwatch-bunny-late. She was seconds away from singing a song about it and throwing herself down a hole. If only she _could_ jump down a hole and end up where she wanted to be. That would make life much easier for her. Grumpily, Bridget pulled on whatever socks she could find, wishing she didn't have to travel so far to get where she wanted in this castle.

That was the one downside to living alone, after all. There were no annoying roommates to wake you up and make sure you got to class on time. Bridget was in for a world of detentions if she didn't charm an alarm clock or something. It was much easier when she was home schooled and didn't have to be up so early.

Inwardly, Bridget thanked the gods for Harry. Technically, she wasn't late for class. Technically, she was late for meeting Harry. He was, in a sense, her own personal alarm clock.

You see, as soon as the girl realized it was impossible to be on time for class she made a deal with Harry to meet her a half hour before breakfast. Now, she couldn't just ask anybody to do this for her. Sure, Ron and Hermione, or even Draco, would be happy to meet her and help her wake up, but it was only Harry that would bite her head off if she was late.

Bridget figured that the fear for her life would provoke her for being on time. It had worked so far, sort of. She was late for Harry all the time-earning ten minutes of yelling and an hour of the silent treatment-but was never late for class anymore.

Bridget pulled on the last of her clothes, racking her brain to make sure she had everything, and then shot out the door off to find him. He was probably fuming by now and if she didn't get there soon-

"Oomph," Bridget grunted, finding herself on the floor. She'd been sprinting so fast, so worried about the rage of Harry Potter, that she forgot to look where she was going.

"I'm so sorry, I was late and forgot to look where I was going. Sorry Sorry Sorry," Bridget apologized as quickly as she could, trying to gather herself before heading off again. She looked up to see who she'd collided into, surprised to see Seth. Something in her stomach stirred, Harry being pushed to the back of her mind.

"It's okay. What were you sprinting so fast towards anyway?" he asked, offering her a hand. She took it, grinning as he pulled her up.

"I promised Harry I'd meet him. He gets grumpy when I'm not on time," she explained.

"He's always grumpy," Seth mumbled to himself. "But hey, let me walk you to him. I'll explain that I ran into you and protect you from any curses he sends your way."

"Thanks!" Bridget exclaimed as they started walking.

"But you're going to have to do something in return," Seth warned, eyebrow raised. Bridget gave him a curious look.

"What?"

"Go with me to Hogesmead tomorrow?" he asked.

"Like a date?" Bridget blurted, feeling butterflies erupt in her stomach.

"Sure," he said casually. "Like a date."

"Yeah!" Bridget squealed and then blushed. "I would love to."

"Good," Seth laughed. "Oops. There he is!"

"I won't make you go any further. The arguing could last four hours. But I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"You can count on it."

As Bridget walked towards Harry she wasn't even afraid of his ranting anymore. As he went on about the importance of time and punctuality and how it was unfair to keep him waiting so long Bridget didn't even pretend to listen like she usually did.

She was too distracted. Seth had asked her out, just like Hermione had suggested he would. They'd ran into each other in the hall, just like a romance novel. Could this be what she'd been waiting for, what she wanted?

"Seth asked me out. That's why I was late."

"And if you keep showing up ten minutes late I swear- What?" Harry cut off, turning to face her in surprise.

"He asked me out and I said yes," she informed him, straightening her back to stand up tall.

"Oh, well, I'm sure you two will make a good couple then," Harry mumbled, forgetting what he was going to say next about being late. It didn't matter now, anyway. She could get Seth to wake her up from now on.

"Are we a couple?" Bridget yelped, her hand flying up to your mouth.

"Not yet," Harry winked, nudging her.

"Oh, I have to tell Ron!" Bridget shrieked, bounding forward.

"Oh, is he your best girlfriend now?" Harry teased.

"Duh. Ron has all the girlfriend potential. Be jealous."

"I'm sure he'd love to hear that," Harry mused, quickening his pace to keep up with her. He wondered at how quickly Bridget and Ron had become close friends, sharing a certain bond, a certain trust that Harry could not yet understand. He didn't know what it was about Ron that got along so easily with the blonde, but somehow Harry wasn't shocked. Ron had expressed before the trust he put in the girl, even when Harry could only hate her.

Yet, Hermione had also clung to Bridget like glue. She was pleased to have another girl around, Harry though, one that she could talk about girl things with. He assumed she got tired of boys after a while, even if they had been friends since first year. They giggled often, relishing in a friendship that was equal to Harry and Ron's.

Harry himself, found himself always questioning Bridget, though. He could call her a friend by now, but never in the same sense he called Ron and Hermione friends. He'd told her things, sure, and he'd shared moments with her he was ashamed to have had at all. They were alike in many ways, understanding things his other friends could not quite comprehend. Loss had bound them together, but aside from that what else was there? A foundation had not yet been set.

"I told you," Hermione said matter-of-factly as Bridget walked in. She didn't need to ask why the girl was grinning like a schoolgirl.

"You did."

"So you like him then?

"Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?"

"It's not like love or anything, but…"

Hermione squealed.

"Hermione!" Ron complained, covering his ears.

"I knew I was right!" she screamed.

"Well it looks like Harry's the only alone one now," Bridget teased, giving him a pointed look.

"It's because I spend all my time waiting around for you," he grumbled, still unhappy about the wasted time this morning.

"You're going to ruin your life," she sighed dramatically.

"Most people's lives aren't ruin over not having a girlfriend."

"You aren't most people," Bridget pointed out, hands on hips.

"She's got a point, mate," Ron commented.

"You always take her side," Harry whined.

"So how did it happen?" Hermione asked, not pleased with the subject change.

"I ran into him in the hall," Bridget stated proudly.

"That is so classic."

Bridge nodded, starting to hum again, something they were noticing she did quite a lot when she was happy. And the trio found themselves glad that she was happy.

* * *

I find myself, though it is far too subtle and spread apart for the readers to notice, throwing in Alice and Wonderland allusions every chance I get. Why this is, I do not know, because I absolutely despite Alice and Wonderland. Can somebody say acid, please?


	18. Stalking is Pain

Hermione and Ron had left early that morning, leaving Harry alone to watch Seth twiddle his thumbs nervously. He tried to stifle his snickers, completely amused at the way the boy was freaking out over a date with a girl Harry had no trouble being with.

"You'd be nervous too!" Seth defended, glaring. Harry laughed, no longer able to contain the bubbly emotion inside of him. Seth was probably right, but that was the difference between him and Seth.

"I'm not the one going out with her. But yeah, I'd say it's something to be nervous about," he joked. Even though he was the only one of his friends without a date that morning, he would not let is solitude bother him. He was happy for his friends, and besides, he didn't want anything like that anyway.

"Why is she late?" Seth cried, crossing his arms. His foot was tapping consistently on the floor, his eyes darting back and forth from his watch to the corridor in which she would be coming down. Harry sighed, feeling generous.

"To be honest? She's probably sleeping," he confessed sheepishly.

"It's eleven!" Seth exclaimed.

"She enjoys her sleep," Harry told him. "But if you want I'll go wake her up, settle her down for you."

"Would you really? Thanks, mate," Seth said, looking brighter. Harry rolled his eyes, jogging off towards her room. Once he got there he knocked twice, recited the password, and stepped in. He was right; she was sleeping. Leaning against the wall, Harry groaned, wondering exactly how he was to go about waking her up.

"Wake up," he tried, raising his voice.

"I'm sleepy," she moaned, rolling over to face him. Pleased, and a little surprise, Harry's eyes lit up in amusement.

"You're late for a date, though," he said casually. She shot up in bed, eyes wide with shock.

"Shit."

"Relax, he's not mad."

"I have to get ready. I have to _go_," she breathed. Harry laughed, waving pleasantly as he left the room for her to change. He slowly walked back in Seth's direction again, his footsteps a lot more groggy and lazy than before. He was in no hurry now, free to go about his day however he pleased. Just as Seth came into view he was surprised when a lightning fast blur blew past him. Bridget had hurried and gotten ready before running all the way over here.

Hey, I'm sorry," he heard her apologize, sincerity lacing her voice. Seth laughed, taking her hand as they went walking off.

--

"Do you fancy a walk?" Seth questioned Bridget. They were seated in the Three Broomsticks, sipping butterbeer. Bridget seemed near done, though, and it was a bit too loud for her taste.

"Yeah," she agreed. Seth, always a gentleman, pulled out her chair and took her hand as he helped her stand. She blushed, a trait that was becoming more and more frequent the more time she spent with Seth. Even though she didn't know him very well, she felt easy around him.

Seth was everything a boyfriend should be. He was kind and gentle, aware of Bridget's emotions and tough enough to have a great personality. She really liked him and wanted to get to know him better.

They walked throughout town, ending up at the shrieking sat. Bridget leaned against the fence, her hand still intertwined with Seth. It felt so natural to be with him, physically and emotionally. She didn't have to work, didn't have to prove anything. Doubts and trust issues were nonexistent, a feeling that was strange to her.

"Bridget?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Seth asked, his words coming out very fast and slurred. She hadn't noticed before, but his face turned a lovely shade when he blushed.

"Of course," Bridget said quickly, not having to think about it. A wide grin spread across Seth's face as he leaned down, gracing Bridget with her very first kiss.

But it would not be her last.

--

Harry was feeling nostalgic and had taken his chances with visiting the shrieking shack. He missed Lupin terrible and wished he could still teach at the school, even if it meant the worn down building had to be haunted again.

He was leaning out the window, just thinking, when he caught sight of two blondes-a male and a female-speaking by the fence. At first, Harry took no notice of them. He supposed people came down her all the time to visit the shack, but as the two embraced in a kiss Harry saw something he recognized.

It was Bridget and Seth.

Something in him stirred, a feeling he did not know he had. It pushed through all his other emotions, taking control over the situation.

Anger brewed.

Then question: Why?

_Because you fancy her._

Harry shook his head, banishing the thought. He didn't fancy her, not even a little bit. They were barely friends and if anybody found out he'd even considered the thought he would have hell to pay.

Still, the thought would not go away. He considered why this was, because Harry was never one to care much about girls. Since when did he care at all, actually? More importantly, since when did he care about girls that were the daughter of his worst enemy?

_Since now. _

Not willing to face his thoughts anymore, Harry set out back to the school, hoping to find somebody-_anybody_ to distract him. He'd even watch Ron and Hermione snog to rid himself of the thought that he might fancy Bridget Riddle. Maybe he'd just have to go back to hating her again.

No, Harry could not do this. They had not been on speaking terms very long, but in the time they had been they'd become friends. Harry had not admitted until now, but they were friends. Now, Harry couldn't imagine waking up everyday and not having to wait ten minutes for her to meet him. He couldn't imagine waking up every day and not fighting with her over something stupid. It was strange to think about, because she'd thrown herself upon them. She'd become one of them, even if she hadn't intended to do so.

So why, then, did Harry get sick when he saw Seth and Bridget together on the grounds? It was stupid, because Seth was an okay guy as well. He was good for Bridget too, better at waiting for her than anybody Harry knew, especially himself. He'd never though about liking her before, either. There had to be an answer for this.

"Harry! Hey, I didn't see you," Bridget exclaimed, noticing Harry heading for the doors of the castle.

"It looked like you were a little distracted," Harry commented, eyeing Seth. He struggled to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Seth had his arm around Bridget, looking pleased with himself, when Harry realized what was wrong.

He was just being overprotective. He'd become a good friend with Bridget, and with her being-he struggled to think the name-Lillian's friend he just wanted to make sure she didn't get hurt. Relief spread through Harry and he was almost able to normally converse with them now.

"Were you alone the whole time? I feel bad now," she asked, concerned.

"It's fine. I didn't get into as much trouble as a usually do," he assured her, winking. She laughed.

"Good."

"And you?" Harry questioned, eyebrow raised. "Haven't murdered anybody yet? Attacked any muggles?"

"Not that I can remember. But guess what? Seth and I are going out!" she exclaimed. Seth seemed to turn back to the conversation then, cheerful to be included.

"Great," Harry choked out. Jealousy-or whatever this was-was no fun. "You guys better be off then. I've got some homework to do. Snape's killing me slowly here."

"Bye then," Bridget waved, walking off with her _boyfriend._

Harry sighed, shaking his head. He didn't know why everything had to be so complicated. Bridget was definitely more than he'd bargained for.

_But not more than she's worth._


	19. Sick

Terribely short, this one is...

* * *

As soon as Ron had found out the full advantages of having your own room, he demanded they spend all of their free time in Bridget's room. She'd gotten Hermione to charm some extra furniture, making it a very cluttered space, especially since Bridget promised she wasn't going to clean up just because they were going to be there.

Ron just about wet himself the first time he saw a bra on the floor. Hermione glared and made Bridget promise to at least camouflage the intimates.

"You live like a boy," she said, picking up an old pair of shorts and sniffing them. They were kicked under the bed after that.

Currently, Bridget had sprawled herself out on the couch, completely disregarding the fact that two other males happened to be sitting there.

"You're feet stink," Harry complained, nudging them. Bridget jerked quickly, kicking him. Harry glared, tickling the arch of her foot and causing her to squirm like crazy all over.

"Watch it, Potter. She's on top of me too," Seth snapped, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. It was a little uncomfortable sometimes, now that Seth was around more often. Bridget had to be his girlfriend, and they were very cute together, but she refused to let go of the friends she seemed to only just recently have acquired.

Bridget sat up then, crossing her legs and arms.

"You look like a snake trainer," Ron snickered from the love seat he was sharing with Hermione.

"Shut up," she retorted before changing the subject. "So, Harry, from a very well rounded point of view, would you rather go up against a dragon or a dark wizard?"

"Why?" Harry questioned, turning to face her in confusion.

"Just because. I wanna know which one is more dangerous!"

"Oh, I dunno. Dragon?" Harry told her, though it sounded more like a question.

"Why?"

"Dark wizards don't breathe fire."

"Oh." She paused. "Dementors or dragons?"

"Dragons, still."

"But Dementors steal your soul!" Bridget shrieked.

"But I know how to produce a patronus."

"Can I have your soul?" Bridget asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

"No," he snapped, becoming annoyed once more. It seemed, ever since Bridget got a boyfriend, it was suddenly much easier to become annoyed with her. He still wasn't happy about the situation, after all.

"You don't need his soul, Bee, You have my heart," Seth interrupted, blushing. Bridget awed, kissing him. Once again, Harry felt like gagging. This time it wasn't just because they were kissing, though. _Nobody_ seriously said anything that cheesy.

"Get a room you two," Ron whined, covering his eyes. Harry mentally thanked him.

"You're in it," Bridget retorted, smirking.

"Well, if you want we could leave-"

"No, no. Harry, it's fine-"

"Here they go again," Hermione muttered in Ron's ear.

"Oh, I've gotten used to it. It's like a familiar song now," Ron mused, placing an arm around his girlfriend.

"I don't know. I think things have been a little awkward for Harry. He's getting grumpier."

"Hermione, don't worry," Ron consoled. "He's been grumpy ever since Lillian. It'll get better, though. He'll be fine."

"It's not just that," Hermione started. "I think he feels left out now, with everybody paired off," she confessed.

"No way, Harry-"

"I want to go swimming," Bridget blurted. Hermione and Ron quickly forgot about their conversation.

"It's freezing. You'll get sick!"

"I don't get sick."

--

"I'm sick."

"I told you," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

"Why didn't you stop me, Seth?" she wheezed, her nose already becoming congested.

"I tried, but you're stubborn."

"Shh. I feel like crap," she complained, collapsing on the Gryffindor Common Room couch.

"Hey, you'll be fine. I have to finish this essay for Snape-ugg. I'll see you tomorrow?" Seth said, retreating up the stairs.

"Seth," she wined. "My head."

"Some boyfriend you got there," Harry laughed, but then his face formed a from.

"Don't make fun of him," she defended, but her voice sounded too tired to be intimidating. Harry sat down next to her, offering his shoulder and company. He felt a bit guilty when she leaned on him, falling asleep, but Seth had denied her and went upstairs. Harry was just being a good friend, picking up the slack.

Eventually, after she was long gone, Harry laid her out on the couch, not willing to fall asleep with her, no matter how comfortable it was.

"She okay?" Seth asked from his bed when Harry entered the dorm room.

"She's fine, no thanks to you," Harry muttered angrily.

"Come on, mate, you know Snape."

"Look, she's your girlfriend, not mine."

"Fine. I'll go down there now and apologize."

So Seth went, feeling a little bit bad about ditching her. Harry was right, she was his girlfriend. He should have been there for her. Yet, when he reached the common room she had gone, probably back to her own room, and Seth sighed, figuring he'd speak with her in the morning.


	20. Dumbledore Dirty

It was that time of month again, the group of friends thought warily

It was that time of month again, the group of friends thought warily. Their second class of Special Effects was starting in just a few minutes and everybody was a little concerned about what was waiting for them in Esmeralda's classroom.

"I can't believe we've been in school for so long," Bridget pondered, leaning against Seth. He rubbed his thumb against her head, smiling silently.

"Time flies when you're having fun," Ron said, but his voice was in monotone. Nobody was happy about having to wake up extra early that day.

"Class, there is something we all must understand about each other," Esmeralda started, her hands folded professionally in her lap. "We all live very different, very unique lives. Your years here at school are almost over, another phase of your life completed. Now, during these years you've met all sorts of people. The strangest part, I imagine, will not be staying home from school next year. It will be not seeing those people, whether you liked them or not, everyday. Suddenly new people will enter in your life, a new phase, and you will forget the fourth year boy you pass by every day on your way to potions.

"This is not to say that those you cherish in your life will not be with you later. You may keep up friendships, correspondences, and the like. But mostly, your lives will all turn in different directions. Not one of you will go to the exact same place."

"Excuse me?" Hermione questioned, her hand raised. "I don't understand what this has to do with anything."

"Today we will learn a bit about the past, our own and our peers. Perhaps will you understand a classmate better than before or perhaps you will learn something about yourself, but the point is realizing that we don't all come from the same place, just as we will not go to the same places."

"And what exactly are we going to do?" she asked once more. Hermione, who had once loved all classes, had finally found something she didn't like. Special Effects, while necessary, was the worst part of Hermione's month. She didn't find it enjoyable to discuss things, share things, with people she did not know.

"Well, I need a volunteer."

Like the first day, nobody's hand raised.

"Oh," Esmeralda whispered, furrowing her brow. So, like the first day, Bridget was chosen. "Ms. Riddle after school what career would you like to pursue?"

"I don't know," Bridget confessed. "Um, I'm going to have to go with having twelve kids and ordering them around all day."

"Ms. Riddle, why would you want that?" Esmeralda asked, genuinely curious as she ignored the snickers that came from half of the room.

"Because I can't think of anything else?"

"Please, try. What do you enjoy doing? What would interest you?" the teacher pressed, eyes eager and pleading.

"I guess I'd work in the ministry."

"Really? What department?" Esmeralda questioned, suddenly exited.

"Which one is most interesting?"

"It depends, dear, some people find magical artifacts interesting, others prefer working with muggles, and some tamper with the life of an unspeakable."

"The last one then. I guess that sounds cool," Bridget agreed. In truth, she had never really thought about life after school. She'd always imagined she'd just figure something else. Maybe she'd get some help from Stacey, but getting a job just seemed so normal. It wasn't something Bridget assumed would work out very well, especially if people decided to go against Harry and deem her evil again.

"Anything else you like to add?"

"Well," Bridget murmured before an idea struck her. "I want to work for the Daily Prophet," she stated clearly.

"Oh?"

"It prints a bunch of rubbish, you know, nonsense about stuff that doesn't even really matter. I think I 'd want to write the truth. I want people to know."

"Ah!" Esmeralda shouted, turning towards the class. "Do you see? Because she has suffered through false rumors printed in the prophet, she chooses to write there in order to fix a problem!"

The class stared in confusion, still not quite understanding the point. Bridget ran a hand through her hair, wondering when exactly the spotlight would be directed off her.

"Not everyone's life is as dramatic as hers, though," a boy in the back said, crossing his arms stubbornly. "Some of us a normal."

"How many of you?" Bridget interrupted, standing up. The boy's comment had angered her, as if he was unaffected by the war.

"I don't know…"

"Name one person who hasn't been affected by the war!"

"I wouldn't go around talking about stuff like that so carelessly. How do we know you haven't caused some of the losses somebody's been through?"

"Because I'm your age. I wouldn't, even if I could do anything to harm somebody on purpose. I'm just kid," Bridget breathed, berating herself for opening her mouth. She should just learn to stay silent, but she couldn't shut up all those opinions that poured out.

"Do you think You-Know-Who cares if you're a kid? You are, after all, his kid."

"Hey, shut up," Seth yelled, getting tired of the arguing. He could see Bridget's confidence fading, and reached out to save her before she crumbled.

"Class, please," Esmeralda yelled, calling the students to order. The room fell silent. "We have to move on now," she mumbled. "The last thing I'd like to try today is curse reaction."

"What?" Ron asked, looking at his friends curiously.

"Can anybody tell me what curse reaction is?"

Hermione's hand shot up.

"Curse reaction, is the action of affect a curse has on an individual. Often, curses have the same affect on everybody, but if studied close enough there are small differences. For instance, one may be more resilient to being obliviated than another. Each witch or wizard is different and therefore there are changes in the way they react to a curse."

"Very good, Ms. Granger! Thirty points to Gryffindor!

"Now, in order to make sure this is a safe event, Professor Dumbledore will be sitting in and watching."

The class broke out into chatter, turning around to see the professor staring at them curiously in the back. They had not noticed his arrival and were slightly shocked to find him there. This did not hinder their excitement, though.

"I don't want to do this," Bridget said, crossing her arms. "Pick somebody else."

"Ms. Riddle, please-"

"Ah, Esmeralda, I think that perhaps she is right," Dumbledore commented from the back, standing up, "Not to interfere with your class, but there is evidence that Ms. Riddle here does not react as-normally-as others."

"What is he talking about?" Harry hissed in her ear. Bridget blushed.

"I can't feel pain," she blurted. "I get hurt, I get crucio'd, but I don't feel anything," she whispered, looking down. Gasps echoed throughout the room.

"That, Ms. Riddle, is something I have a theory about.

"When there is a great amount of power between two wizards and witches, such as your parents, and when they conceive a child the power must be split-that is to say that twins must be born. Because of this split of power, there can be side affects. The children, normal at first, can vary from others. Each set is different, so not many accurate studies have been made, but that, I believe, is the answer as to why pain is not felt in your body."

"That doesn't make sense. There are plenty of powerful people who can feel pain just fine. Are you saying that all these people's parents are less powerful than mine?" Bridget demanded, growing angry.

"Certainly not. Power varies within wizards and not all twins are born in a split of power. It is possible to have twins and be normal, of course. There is a difference, I believe, then somebody who is born with power and somebody who grows power.

"It is plausible that one must be born with power to have any affects such as yours, and that is assuming their parents hold the certain power needed."

"That's as silly as pureblood's are better than half-bloods. Are you saying that somebody's more powerful, better, than somebody else?" she argued.

"Power does not necessarily make one better, as you put it."

Bridget sat back, ignoring the rest of the class. She ignored everything Esmeralda said, every stare that was aimed towards her, every concerned look from her friends. It was stupid, all of Dumbledore's theories. She didn't like thinking she was more powerful than somebody else, and she certainly didn't like to think Voldemort was either, even if that was true.

She wished she'd never brought it up and didn't know why she did. She was just tired of lying and besides Hermione had been asking her about it anyway. It was about time they knew. She just wished there was a better way to have told them


	21. When Tempers Fly

This chapter, I confess, was a bitch. In case you were wondering...So sorry if it might suck a bit.

* * *

It was Tuesday and for the first time since last Tuesday Bridget was up early. She awoken with a smile and headed down to the great hall, snagging some juice before walking out on the grounds. She was mischievous on Tuesdays, especially now that she'd gotten over the last of her cold.

Currently, she sat outside by the lake, one of her favorite spots on campus. Late last night she'd stolen the Marauders' Map from Harry, something he'd told her about a week ago. She was dying to see how it worked and had left him a note just in case he felt the sudden desire to use it. She'd give it back and hope he wouldn't be too angry with her.

As the sun rose across the waters Bridget stood, too awake to stay in one spot anymore. She gazed down pleasantly upon the map, a devious smile dancing on her features. She'd meant to cause a little trouble in the castle, shake up the day a bit, when she saw a room that caught her attention, distracting her from any previous plans.

The room was not labeled, and for good reason. She felt as if she'd heard of it before, known of it before, though she'd never been before. Could she have heard about it from Stacey, a good friend of the creatures of the map? Or was it Voldemort who mentioned the room, notorious for sneaking around himself? Yet, despite who had told her about it Bridget felt like it was a bad idea to go searching for it. There was something she did not know.

Bridget made it to the door of the room, or rather to a long corridor that would lead to the room. She ran her hands along the wall, wondering why nobody had been there before. There wasn't a doorknob, but surely the castle had been searched various times.

There had to be a way to open it, had to be a way to figure out what was inside, what secrets were treasured in the walls. Bridget pressed her hand against the wall, hearing a click. Curiosity burned in the back of her throat-_so close_-

"Bridget!" came a breathless voice from behind her. She turned on her heal, trying to mask the shock and disappointment in her features.

"Ron?" she questioned, surprised to see his hair disheveled and face contorted in worry.

"Seth and Harry got in a fight," he exclaimed, stopping to catch his breath. "I've been looking all over for you to tell you."

"What? Why? A fight?" Bridget yelled, forgetting immediately about the door behind her. She took Ron's hand, dragging him off as her brain began speeding up.

"Hey, so down-"

"What were they fighting over?" she demanded, turning to face him. Her face was turning red with anger; Bridget had a feeling she knew the answer to her own question. Ron seemed to notice this too and did not answer at first.

"You."

"Dammit!" she shrieked. "Where are they?"

"Hospital wing-"

"Come on," Bridget growled, taking Ron's hand again as they ran off towards the wing. "What happened?"

"Seth said something that started Harry off and then they started arguing. Eventually Harry just let go and punched him," Ron tried to explain, though he stuttered over his words as they ran.

"Figures Harry would throw the first punch. I can't believe him," she grumbled, stopping in front of the door.

'Thank God," Ron breathed, leaning against the wall to catch his breath.

"I'm going to kill him. How could Harry be so stupid? I don't even want to go in there and see him!"

"Come on, Bridget, it isn't all Harry's fault-"

"But he started it, didn't he?" Bridget questioned, eyebrow raised. Ron shrugged sheepishly. Bridget sighed, opening the door. Harry and Seth both looked up, though Hermione kept her eyes closed, anticipating the screaming.

"Harry James Potter how dare you get in a fight with my boyfriend and hopefully your friend!"

"Ms. Riddle," Madame Pomphrey started.

"Are you stupid? Did you think I wouldn't care?"

"He started it!" Harry defended, crossing his arms.

"But who ended it? Not you! You only fueled the fire."

"Hermione," Ron chipped it. Bridget ignored him, devoting all her focus on scolding Harry. Her jaw was set angrily, eyes burning with a glower reserved for him.

"You can't just go around getting in fights!"

"Look who's talking!" Harry exclaimed. "You're the one yelling at me."

"You're just jealous, Harry, that not all the attention is on you now," Bridget seethed, her voice low and dangerous. Hermione winced, sharing a worried glance with Ron. Bridget and Harry fought often, but never before had it reached this lever of rage. It hadn't even started out as that big of a deal, but once they got started it was hard to stop them.

"Me? You're the own who keeps disappearing with _my_ map. Going off to find daddy, maybe? Telling him all the things you've learned?" Harry teased, smirking.

"Don't you dare accuse me of that," she hissed. "Besides, it has nothing to do with what we're talking about. Why did you hit Seth?"

"I don't' like him," Harry shrugged.

"So? Maybe I don't like you but I don't throw punches."

"I'm not going to fight a girl," Harry said, sighing. "Not that you count as human."

"I don't know what Seth said to get you started but it isn't your job to protect me. Ron told me that I was the foundation of this and I won't let it continue."

"I was being a good friend to the boyfriend who won't even look after you when you're sick," Harry stated, glowering.

"I had reading," Seth whimpered from the other side of the room. He had not spoken until now, but both Harry and Bridget were too distracted with each other to listen to him.

"Stay out of this!" they both shouted in his direction.

"I was just looking out for you!" Harry exclaimed.

"Well don't. I didn't ask you to and I can take care of myself. I don't need your help," she finished before turning around and storming out of the room.

Once alone again, outside on the lake, Bridget sighed, laying down. The fury had faded, the thoughts sinking in. Bridget had freaked out on Harry, probably more than he deserved, but that wasn't what was bothering her.

She couldn't bring herself to be angry with Seth, or even to think much about him. Her focus was for Harry and Harry only, her anger directed towards him alone. The facts, however, were against her as realization came.

_Seth fought too. _

"Lillian, I need you."

And for the first time since she arrived at school Bridget let herself feel alone.


	22. Teaching Him How

The door to Bridget's room opened, the intruder not bothering to knock. Bridget's back was to the door, her face staring blankly out the window though there was a book in her hand.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked from the doorway, not daring to go any further. It was strange that this room had been so open and welcoming before, and yet now she felt as if she wasn't allowed inside.

_"I'm_ fine," she retorted, not turning around. Hermione sighed, closing the door behind her.

"Please don't be too angry," she begged. Bridget turned around, her face alit with anger.

"It's hard not to. Harry has no reason to pick a fight, especially not with Seth," Bridget grumbled. Hermione looked at her friend hopefully, raising her eyebrow. She opened her mouth, but did not speak at first.

"Harry won't admit it to anybody, or even talk about it, but I think he might fancy you."

"No," Bridget snorted, a smile appearing on her face. "If Harry feels anything good towards me at all that is furthest from what it is. I don't really know whether to call us friends."

"Don't say that," Hermione scolded, sitting down. "You both go on about not being friends because of your backgrounds, but nobody waits ten minutes for somebody who isn't their friend."

"He doesn't fancy me, Hermione. It shouldn't be an excuse for what he did."

"All that aside," Hermione continued. "You scare him."

_"Please-"_

"Listen," Hermione interrupted, glaring. "Harry's the 'boy who lived,' but I don't really think he knows how. He isn't the same boy I met in first year. He's unhappy and angry-

"And then he met you. And suddenly he laughed, he opened up, and Ron and I got our friend back."

"I don't understand," Bridget confessed, looking at her feet. "It's not me. Maybe Lillian-"

"Is gone now and he should be devastated. He should be worse than he is."

"You're wrong."

"I'm not!" Hermione shouted, standing. "You have been through so much more than anybody should ever go through and yet you are the happiest out of all of us. And whether you know it or you're teaching Harry how to be happy too."

"Happy people don't pick fights," Bridget protested. She was stubbornly ignoring every word out of Hermione's mouth, every notion that she expressed. And, in turn, Hermione ignored her protests.

"And he's having an affect on you."

"I think you better head back to the Hospital Wing. You're talking crazy," Bridget teased, trying to shrug off the conversation casually.

"Fine, but you and Harry need each other. Not only do you both need help distraction each other from issues but together you are stronger than Voldemort and you can beat him," Hermione exclaimed, passion radiated off of her.

"He needs to do that on his own," Bridget argued. Her blue eyes darkened, filling with sorrow. Her attitude had turned solemn, no longer fueled by anger or sarcasm. Hermione stared blankly, surprised. She'd not expected that.

"He's not alone," Hermione whispered. "He has Ron and he has me. And I hope he will have you."

"Can't you see?" Bridget proclaimed. "We're horrible together. He's gotten in the way of everything I've ever wanted-a normal life, a boyfriend, and everything. Not to mention what I've probably ruined for him."

Bridget scowled, getting up. She gave Hermione one last look before leaving the room, off to search for a place where she could be alone. Before, the thought of it had been depressing, but now it was all Bridget wanted.

"You can't run away from this!" Hermione called after her. "Problems don't go away when they're ignored!"

--

Bridget had been running for hours now, trying to clear her mind of Harry. The fights she'd gotten into that day kept replaying in her brain, a constant reminder of how she'd somehow messed up the friendships she'd worked so hard to maintain.

She'd yelled at Harry, treated Hermione horribly, and ignored Seth. She should have just walked in, at the most glared at Harry, and gone to Seth. It seemed, though, that she had not thought about him all day until now. He'd been pushed to the back of her mind, problems with Harry consuming it.

Sometimes, Bridget let her mind wander to her father. They were very similar when they got angry, a fact Bridget hated herself for. She knew the moment she let herself fall away from Harry she would go back to being the evil offspring, he being her only way of staying on the right side in the eyes of the community.

Sometimes, Bridget wondered if they were right. She'd done her fair share of things wrong, followed him when she should have strayed far away. It was still so hard not to come when he called, because she used to think him right. She used to believe in everything he stood for, everything he did.

She still remembered the day she found out she was wrong.

_"How could you do something like this?" Lillian shrieked, disappointed written all over her face. Bridget recoiled, hating when her friend was angry with her. _

_"What? He's my dad!" Bridget defended, crossing her arms stubbornly. She'd just told Lillian how great it was to be with her dad again, learning everything he did, and sometimes helping him. She felt bad about the families that died, and never participating in a killing, but it was for the greater good, wasn't it? _

_Wasn't it? _

_"There is so much you don't know…" Lillian sighed before persisting to explain the things she knew about Lord Voldemort. Bridget listened patiently, the truth stinging. The things-the horrors-that Voldemort had cast upon her best friend's family, her brother, everything. _

_How could she have been so stupid? _

_"I'm sorry."_

From that day on Bridget began to betray her father, shy away from him, go against him. Hate brewed for the evil man and by now Bridget had chosen sides.

That didn't mean it wasn't still hard, though.

Even through all the hate Bridget could never fully betray her father. She could go against him, refuse to help him, to be a part of what he did, but doing something to purposely hurt him? She couldn't imagine what that would feel like.

Because, no matter how hard she tried to deny it, there was a small string that attached them. She would always be his daughter and a part of her would always belong to him.

Bridget decided she would apologize to Hermione tomorrow. She'd had enough confrontation for the day. Right now, Bridget just needed a friend. And though it was a risky idea, she knew just who to turn to.


	23. Decisions

Hogwarts, even to those who lived there the most, was a mystery. It was large, dark, and it seemed there was always one corridor where no man had stepped, secrets laying in-between its walls.

However, there were places commonly known and if you were to intent on finding them they would surely come to you.

For instance, if you walked up a few staircases, turned a couple right corners, you would find yourself in front of a painting. Now, if your directions were carried out correctly this would not be just any painting. It would be the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, and if you were lucky enough to know the password you should be able to get inside.

If you entered the room at the right moment, late into the dear night, you would find Bridget Riddle, the daughter of Lord Voldemort, divulging her thoughts on the day's events to a certain red-headed friend named Ron Weasley.

"So you see, even forgetting the fact that you have to take Hermione's side being her boyfriend, that she is wrong. If Harry and I made up after this fight only more fights would happen! Therefore, more unnecessary drama," the girl explained, using her hands to vividly illustrate the immense passion she felt on the topic.

It was dark, except for the dying far; it was very late into the night. It was the best time for a discussion like this, though, for nobody was around to listen in. Sleep had pressed itself on the other students, leaving the two friends alone in the near dark.

Bridget's hair was damp, her features barely being lit up by the fire as she leaned forward towards her friend, so very caught up in the conversation. Squinting, Ron could see that her face was intent, though there was little trace of seriousness. Ron himself had to struggle to stifle a laugh. It seemed ludicrous, the situations he found himself in.

"But isn't that the point?" he mused, a light smiling playing at his features. "Isn't that what makes it worth it?"

The fire flickered off his face, brightening the red in his hair. It felt lamely in his eyes, having lost all energy throughout the day. Like any other boy, though, it was wild near the back, sticking up at all ends.

"What?" Bridget laughed, not completely understanding. No, that was a lie. Bridget understood, if she thought hard about it, she just didn't want to accept that maybe Ron was right. It was ridiculous, the way he was talking.

"Well if you're able to fight and still be friends then can't you see how your friendship would grow, becoming stronger? Eventually, you guys would be able to make it through anything," Ron elucidated, shrugging. "I mean, look at Hermione and me! Not that you and Harry would ever get together, I mean," Ron quickly amended, not wanting to bring up that topic of discussion and end up with the same fate as Hermione.

"I see what you're saying, I guess. It's just…hard. I don't see the point."

"Look, you don't have to listen to me," Ron said, ruffling his hair. "I'm just suggesting you give Harry a chance or ten. You both deserve that much." Ron smiled, flashing a set of teeth. He appreciated talking with Bridget and the way they could discuss such pressing matters with an air of causality. It made talking with her easy and Ron didn't feel as if he had to put as much thought into his contributions as he did with Harry sometimes. He was free to crack a joke or two.

"And then what about Seth?" Bridget questioned, opening up a whole new subject of problems. "I'm not stupid enough to think I can be friends with Harry and still be Seth's girlfriend, especially after today."

"Well the answer to that is obvious," Ron snorted.

"Oh?"

"You have to choose."

"Oh, thanks, Ron, I would have never guessed," Bridget retorted, scowling. Ron snickered, letting himself settle down and consider his answer before speaking.

"It is a simple question of who in your life is more important, or rather, who in your life would be harder to live without?"

Bridget stared at him, a strange emotion playing across her face. She was thankful for his advice, but not happy with the outcome. An essence of desperation appeared in her eyes as she realized what she had to do, the answer to her problems.

She crossed her arms, staring pitifully into the dying fire. She felt weak, like a child, anguished over how easily she had come to the answer. She'd expected herself to need more deliberation.

"I have to break up with him."

"Why?" Ron blurted, momentarily forgetting about tact. "Not that I oppose or anything."

"You know as well as I do that any friendship I can maintain with Harry would be more _productive_ than what I have with Seth. If I were to ever just ditch Harry he would not understand and we'd be back where we started, not to mention I'd lose friendships with you and Hermione-intentional or not."

"Besides, I could never to that to Lillian."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked again, face contorted in confusion. Bridget laughed nervously.

"This is going to sound stupid."

"Tell me anyway."

"I feel as if the basis of Harry and mine's friendship isn't based on platonic love, than it must be of loss. The loss of a sister, blood or not, it was Lillian that brought us together. And part of me believes she knew what she was doing when she died, because had she lived we wouldn't be here right now, the way things are.

"I owe it to her to fight for the friendship that she gave me."

"I don't think that's stupid," Ron confessed, taking Bridget's hand. "I think you're right."

"Thanks Ron," Bridget laughed, running her free hand through her hair. "You're the best friend a girl could hope for. Hermione's lucky."

"Oh, I know."

Bridget frowned, hitting him.

"Deflate your head, please and thank you."

"You're no fun."

"Oh, I know," she mimicked, snickering. "So you'll tell Harry I want a truce?"

"You bet."

--

"Where were you?" Harry demanded as Ron entered their room.

"Retract the claws, I was with Bridget," Ron explained, rolling his eyes.

"What? Why?" Harry asked, growing angry.

"We were talking about today. She's calling a truce."

"A truce?" Harry inquired, blinking dumbly.

"Yeah, so are you going to be mates again?"

"I guess," Harry agreed slowly, a little shocked about the situation. Had she really given up so easily?

"Good," Ron stated before his eyes turned darker, voice lowering dangerously. "Because she's breaking up with Seth for you, mate. And, I mean, you're my best friend but she is too now. You better make it up to her and behave yourself."

--

"Okay."

"Okay?" Bridget asked, confused. "You agree?"

"Sure. I get it. Friends over boyfriends, whatever," Seth said, shrugging. "See you later."

Bridget stared blankly after him, jaw dropped in shock. She'd explained so nicely why they had to break up and he'd just agreed with her! She was a bit hurt by this, hoping he'd show some other negative emotion, just to feed her ego if nothing else.

He hadn't cared, though, was just able to walk away as if it was nothing. Was he putting on a façade, trying to protect his own ego? Bridget shook her head, sighing.

It was strange to have things back to normal again.


	24. Kiss

Bridget awoke to a loud rapping against the door. She groaned, rolling over, but the annoying noise just persisted.

"Fine," she grumbled, more or less crawling to the door and opening it. Hermione stood in the doorway, her eyes bright with pride. Without speaking, the two of them decided to forget about yesterday's conversation. The wounds had been healed, cuts stitched up.

"You just woke up, didn't you?" she sighed, frowning. Bridget glared.

"No way."

"So you've been awake all this time and have done nothing hinting towards getting dressed?" Hermione laughed, eyeing her outfit carefully. It consisted of a tank top and shorts, the kind that had some sort of writing on the back.

"I am dressed, come on," Bridget protested stubbornly and heading out the door. She looked back quickly to check in the mirror to make sure her hair was decent.

"Really, Bridget? Kiss?"

"Huh?"

"Your pants, or lack thereof, really."

"Oh, well yes," Bridget mumbled, quickening her pace.

"You really should go back and change," Hermione cautioned.

"I'll be late!" Bridget argued.

"You're going to get a detention."

"Somebody say detention?" a voice said from around the corner as two makes appeared. "Great! We were just going to meet you and now we don't have to walk as far!"

"Ronald," Hermione scolded. Bridget laughed, though her eyes trailed up to meet Harry's offering him a weak smile. He grinned broadly, a sign that the fight was over. Amends had been made.

"Hey Harry," Bridget started, sauntering towards him. He swallowed, taking the moment to notice how little clothes she was wearing. "I'll race you."

Then she was off, Harry after her in a heartbeat. She was a fast runner, not that he hadn't noticed before. Harry admitted to having trouble keeping up, but blamed most of that of the fact that she'd gotten a head start.

As Bridget reached the great hall she slid to a stop, waiting for Harry who was just a few paces behind. Apparently, he did not notice she'd stopped running and toppled into her, the two of them falling to the ground. The doors to the room were pushed open, half the school getting an eyeful of what looked to be a very compromising situation.

"Thanks for that, mate," Bridget mumbled, pushing him off. Harry's face was red in a blush, the shock of what had happened not quite hitting him yet.

"Why did we have to get here so bloody fast?" he asked, trying to avert the subject of attention.

"Well before you went off and caused drama I actually had to do something-but first I have to talk to Dumbledore about it. Now seemed like a very opportune moment, no?"

"What do you need to speak with him about?" Harry questioned, following her as she walked towards the teacher's table.

"Professor, sir?"

"Yes, Ms. Riddle?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes sparkling with something resembling amusement.

"I was wondering if I could speak with you privately later concerning something in the school-and also, could you invite Mr. Lupin to join us as well?"

Dumbledore seemed to stare for a moment, but he masked his confusion well. The same familiar smile never left his face.

"Of course. But first, I must ask, you change your attire. Minerva is close to gracing you with a detention, I believe," he chuckled. Bridget blushed, looking down. It had been stupid to come down here the way she was. Maybe she should have listened to Hermione.

"Bat At out?"

"Chew and swallow, Ron," Bridget sighed, sitting down next to him. Ron glowered, but did as she asked.

"What was that about?"

"Just something I need to do."

"Really, like what?" Harry inquired.

"Well-"

"Bridget, can I speak with you?"

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry snapped, turning around to glare at the Slytherin.

"I don't think I was talking to you, scarface," Malfoy insulted, smirking.

"Quit it. What is it you want, Draco?" Bridget asked. She hadn't spoken to the boy in a while, being too distracted by her own things. Feeling a bit guilty because of this, Bridget stood and they walked into the dark hallways.

She did miss her cousin, it seemed.

"You need to behave yourself better," Draco ordered, arms crossed. Bridget choked on the breath she was holding.

"What?"

"You come down here dressed in next to nothing and you don't think all the guys minds go to one place? Then Potter," he trailed off, anger seeping out of his voice.

"Is this what you're mad about? I'll go change if it'll make you feel better," she laughed, stifling a snort.

"And cloth yourself from now on?"

"Sure."

--

It was strange, as the day continued, to have everything more or less normal again. At times, during free periods, Bridget found herself missing Seth, even though he brought drama. Her life didn't feel complete without his kisses, though, or the laughs they shared with each other.

She wondered, even if it was just for a moment, if she'd made the wrong decision. Things had been so cloudy yesterday, and who was to say she couldn't have both Seth and Harry? It was silly to have had to choose the way she did, especially since Bridget was still denying every word Hermione said about Harry fancying her.

It was almost boring without Seth, now that there was no drama to bother themselves with.

Bridget hoped Lupin would come soon.


	25. The Secret

**Memo: **As you may or may not already know, this story was started at least two years ago and posted elsewhere. When I decided to post it on here I took up the task of going through and rewriting the chapters, not just editing them. Because, you see, my writing now is ten times better than these beginning chapters, even rewritten. If that makes sense.

Anyhow, this chapter here was written after I found out about HBP and the hororcruxes. I wanted to stay cannon, and though I kept Dumbledore alive I went ahead and got rid of this little problem in one chapter.

And since it has been so long since this was originally written I couldn't bear to rewrite this chapter and have it make sense. I did edit it, briefly, but I'm just warning you. It's...constantly making me angry. I hope you all don't feel as furious with it as I do, though. ;)

* * *

The halls were dark and the only light was that of Dumbledore's wand. He, Bridget, and Remus Lupin led the group of Harry, Ron, and Hermione down to the secret. That was what Bridget had named it, the room that it.

Lupin remembered little about the room he and his fellow marauders met in. He certainly did not remember the long tunnel leading there. Bridget had insisted on finding out what was in the room. Lupin had insisted that Dumbledore come along too. Dumbledore insisted that Harry should tag along in the back. Harry insisted Ron and Hermione should come too, he would tell them anyway. So there they were, stumbling along a damp hallway filled with spiders. You could just imagine the look on Ron's face. Finally Bridget ran into something.

"A door!" she said. "It's locked," she groaned after trying to open it. Lupin stood up front and muttered something along the lines of "Lily Potter."

"Someone has serious issues. I mean, not even I have a password named after me! You don't say Bridget Riddle to get into some room, do you?" Bridget complained.

"Actually it would be Bridget Potter and you would have a very obsessive Harry in love with you," Lupin said.

"Never mind Lily Potter works!" Bridget said quickly. Harry pushed through and opened the door. More tunnels.

"Great," Ron muttered.

"Are you sure you know where your going?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Lupin said.

"Why are we here?" Ron asked.

"The last door's password. We built the other four doors, on for each oh us. There was the original door, it had a password. We cracked it of course, but now we realize the importance of it," Lupin said worriedly.

"What is it?" Hermione asked. Bridget looked back at her, the light barley showing her features.

"Riddle." They shut up.

"Do you mean to tell me that you were devising schemes in a room Voldemort used?" Harry asked.

"Well, we didn't know it. But now I realize we did. There was a lot of stuff we didn't understand, now I know some of it must be important to the war. If it weren't for Bridget, then I probably wouldn't have remembered," Lupin explained. They walked further down until they came to another door.

"Quidditch," Lupin muttered.

"Let me guess, Sirius?" Harry muttered sadly. He was exited to find a place where his dad and his friends hung out. It was creepy, though.

"They sexy one," Bridget said mischievously.

"You did not just say that," Lupin said.

"Oh, your hot too," Bridget added, flashing a smile.

"That's not what he meant," Harry said.

"What now? You what me to say you look good too?" Bridget asked.

"That's enough," Dumbledore said. They were silent. Another door came.

"Oh, let me guess! moon!" Bridget said excitedly.

"Furry," Lupin said dryly.

"You're no fun," Bridget pouted. Ron screamed.

"What?" they all asked.

"Spider," Hermione said. Bridget rolled her eyes and squished it.

"Stop being a baby," she said. They came the yet another door.

"Wormtail," Lupin said.

"He's not very creative," Bridget commented.

"Just shut up," Hermione groaned. They walked further on. Bridget could feel herself getting closer and closer to the place. They finally reached the last door in one peace. It

looked different then the others, having ancient designs on it.

"Riddle," Bridget whispered. The door creaked open slowly. They stepped inside. Dumbledore lit a candle. They scanned the area. There was a desk with old plans on it. There was an alter. Then there was a small circle in the middle. In the corner was a cabinet filled with ancient weapons. There were also four smaller, but messier desks. There was a shelf with powder and potions. There was a round table with ancient writing

and pictures. It also included a variety of candles and obscure objects.

"We didn't touch the stuff we didn't know. We used it for a secret place, I told them to leave everything else alone. It seemed special and ancient, important," Lupin said.

"It all is. Apparently Voldemort had the same idea," Bridget said darkly.

"What is this place?" Harry asked,

"I'm not sure," Dumbledore said.

"It's called a elekan room. In ancient times it was used for weddings, sacrifices, planning important things, and other special occasions. It's really old. The founders probably thought it necessary to have one. They were really important for big organizations like schools. Never-the-less, they have a lot of dark magic in them," Bridget explained.

"Why did Voldemort use it?" Hermione asked. Bridget shook her head and walked over to the larger desk. On it were plans, ideas, and lists. Bridget picked a paper up,

"One child, must kill. Choices? David Albertson. No. Erin Saxby. No. Turin Miry. No. Neville Longbottom. No. Harry Potter. Yes," Bridget read. She looked up at them. The read other papers.

"James and lily Potter (Evans). Friends? Remus Lupin. NO. Sirius Black. NO. Peter Pettigrew. Yes. He must had last been in here a but before he killed the Potters," Bridget finished. Then she picked up a box. On the top was a note.

Hororcruxes. 1- diary.

"It's destroyed," Harry said.

2-family ring.

"It is gone," Dumbledore said.

3-the locket.

"We never found that," Harry commented.

"Why not?" Bridget asked.

"Well, we looked for it, but it was a phony. It came with a note though. It was from R.A.B," Harry said.

"I see. Bins, no. Black, yes. It's Regales Black. I believe that was destroyed," Bridget said.

4-trophy

"What trophy?" Ron asked.

"The one he received fro serving the school," Dumbledore said.

"Why is it still here?" Harry asked.

"It never occurred to me. I will get rid of it." Dumbledore said calmly.

5-the tri wizard cup.

"What? That's gone, because it was a port key, but what?" Harry asked.

"Voldemort didn't expect you to survive," Bridget said plainly. Harry nodded.

6-himself.

"What about the seventh?" Harry asked,

"It was going to be this bracelet from Ravenclaw." Bridget said.

"Going to be?" Lupin questioned.

"The last one was going to be special. The last one was going to be important. The last one was going to be powerful. The last one was going to be made after Voldemort killed Harry. Too bad Harry's alive," Bridget said darkly.

"Are you sure he hasn't made any more?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh yes. He has had no time," Bridget said.

"So that's that," Harry said.

"We can leave!" Ron yelled.

"Yes," Hermione said.

"I don't want any of you to come back here. We don't know what could be lurking around in here after all these years," Dumbledore said. They nodded, not really wanting to. They began the journey out of the tunnel. Bridget stayed din back thinking. Harry lagged back with her.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I know that Voldemort is evil and all, but I feel guilty," Bridget said.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I gave away his secrets," Bridget said.

"Look, it probably saved some lives, like mine and Dumbledore's. You should be proud. You did the right thing, even if it was hard," Harry said, hugging her. She smiled.

"If giving you the truth will keep you alive," Bridget said.

"That's the spirit," Harry said.

"You won't tell him, will you?" Bridget asked hurriedly.

"Um no." Harry said.

"Right. Stupid question," Bridget said. There was silence. "I guess he's my father. I will always be his daughter no matter what. But I'm not following him, ever," she concluded. They walked the rest of the way joking around. Finally they reached the end.

"The light! It burns!" Bridget yelled, recoiling to the ground.

"I am closing this place up. The password shall be," Dumbledore was cut off.

"Belated!" Bridget suggested.

"Sure," Dumbledore said.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Who would guess belated," Bridget asked.

"Oh."

"Guys, I'm planning a rave," Bridget said randomly.

--

"Sir, they are friends. She got rid of the other boy in order to stay close to Potter," Snape said.

"Why?" Voldemort asked.

"I don't know. My guess is it has something to do with Potter's sister," Snape suggested.

"She is dead," Voldemort said.

"I am aware of that. But your daughter sir, she hasn't always followed in your footsteps. I am afraid she might be straying further," Snape said, looking down.

"Why do you say that?"

"She's in the secret," Voldemort stared at Snape.

"The secret?" he questioned.

"The secret room."

"I know what the secret is!" Voldemort yelled.

"Sir, she brought Lupin, Dumbledore, Potter, and his friends," Snape said worriedly.

"Did she tell them anything?" Voldemort asked.

"I can't be sure. All I know is that there are now five other passwords," Snape said.

"What are they?" Voldemort asked.

"Lily Potter, Quidditch, furry, and worm tail. The other one I am not sure of. I don't think we'll ever find out," Snape said.

"Why not?" Voldemort asked, they had to find out.

"It was just placed. Bridget made it up," Snape said. Voldemort sighed. If it was true that she was straying, then she would not tell the death eaters the password. Plus, it would give her the hint that they had a traitor. They would never know. Bridget's passwords were random and could have nothing to do with anything. They would never guess. There must be another way.

"This is not good. Sacrifices must be made. We must do something. I will wait a bit longer. Then I must talk to her," Voldemort muttered his plans.


	26. Old Flames

It was soon known to all her friends that when Bridget said party she meant party. In rewards for her help in the destruction of Voldemort's hororcruxes Dumbledore granted her wish and allowed one night in the Great Hall, free to throw the world's best party.

She'd spent the week working once she got the okay, snapping at anybody who dare disrupt her profound planning. Determination distracted the girl from all other matters, including her studies and friends. It took a great deal of restraint to hinder Ron from slapping her. She was bloody crazy, a fact he stated over and over again.

It had all paid off, though, for not even an hour into the dance everybody was having fun. All students had been invited, and even those who still feared Bridget showed up. Music blared, lights flashed, and Harry wondered why they didn't do things like this more often. A feat fit for a king was nothing compared to the exhilaration he felt now, which was so much better than the Yule Ball, an event which had both him and Ron filled with nerves and disappointments.

At the moment, Bridget was teaching Harry to dance. He wasn't very good at first, but got better as they continued to practice. She, at least, didn't seem to have much more expertise than he did, and for a brief moment he wondered why he let her teach him in the first place. It was better than standing third wheel with Ron and Hermione, he presumed.

"Can I cut in?" a sweet voice said, tapping Bridget on the shoulder. The blonde around, smiling at a sixth year Gryffindor whose name was Sam. The girl was pretty, with long black hair and a slim figure. The crush she had on Harry was all too evident and Bridget was all too happy to leave them alone together, whether the boy was happy about it or not.

"Of course. Hopefully he'll enjoy your company more than mine," she giggled, winking. Harry's emerald eyes flashed something resembling panic as Bridget walked away, but she was enjoying the situation far too much to change her mind now.

Noticing Hermione without Ron for the time being, Bridget grabbed a drink and sat next to her female friend.

"Having a good time?" she questioned, a bright smile shining on her face.

"Yes. You've really outdone yourself. I think even Ron's pleased," Hermione joked, eyes searching the room for her boyfriend. Bridget chuckled.

"Oh, please. He'd be miserable if you weren't his date."

"Oh?" Hermione questioned, her voice raising a pitch in tone. "Harry looks pretty miserable without you accompanying him."

Bridget glowered, turning around to see the disdained look on his face. He seemed to be tripping over his feet and the shade of red on his face was darkening by the minute. Sam, at least, seemed to be enjoying herself. The poor girl was too naive to notice anything more than pleasant going on with her dance partner.

"Oh, he's just unhappy because he knows his people skills are a notch lower than his dancing skills. My feet ache from teaching him."

"Then maybe, perhaps, you would enjoy a better partner?" a cool voice from behind said. Hermione's muscles stiffened.

"Draco," Bridget cooed. "You came."

"Well, when I heard my dear cousin was throwing this thing who was I do stay away?" he chortled, seemingly pleased with himself. Bridget rolled her eyes, offering him a hand.

"You, my friend, need an attitude adjustment," she commented, but persisted to dance with him anyway, letting him spin her around. How nice it was not to lead anymore, even if it was only her cousin.

"So you've told me," he laughed, shaking off her comment airily.

"So I imagine you didn't just come over here to ask me to dance, did you? I mean, with all these lovely girls awaiting your magnificent skills who are you to deny them in favor of family?"

Draco sighed then, spinning her once more. His stance seemed to take a serious turn, all laughter gone from the light of his icy eyes. As Bridget turned to face him again, her long hair sticking to the edges of her face, worry appeared to be thick in his expression. Her own mirrored it.

"I've come to warn you," she confessed, letting go of her.

"Warn me of what, might I ask?" Bridget questioned, crossing her arms.

"The Dark Lord isn't quite as nice as he was before. He is becoming frustrated with you, Bridget. He will no longer sit and watch you betray him, as you fall away and get closer to Potter his anger grows. In turn, so will his need for revenge, and death will fall upon you and those you've come to hold dear."

"Now did he tell you that himself, or did he send a messenger to do it for him?"

"This isn't a game, Bridget!" Draco yelled, throwing his arms up in the air. "There isn't any joking around here!"

"I've been his daughter for seventeen years! I think I can handle him, maybe far better than you ever could."

"Yes, I realize that," Draco admitted, settling himself down. "And this is why he is more determined than every before to keep you on his side."

"How can he do that when I've never been on his side?"

"I'm only saying-"

"Is this guy bothering you?" a deep voice called from behind, a warm hand being placed on Bridget's shoulder. She pulled herself away from the argument, surprised the meet the eager face of Seth. Her breathe hitched, butterflies erupting in her stomach.

"Why yes, he is," she said, glancing back warningly at her cousin. "I'm glad to have found better company." She didn't care if she was shamelessly flirting. She hadn't really taken the time to realize it, but she had missed her boyfriend.

"Than perhaps the lady would enjoy a dance?"

"She would, I think," Bridget agreed, playing along with his game.

"I've been noticing you tonight," Seth confessed, the shadow of a smile forming on his face. Their dancing was slow, not quite as active as the dances with Harry and Draco had been. He kept his eyes focused on her face, studying her reactions carefully.

"Have you?"

"Yes," Seth continued. "You don't seem to like staying in the same place for too long, do you?"

"I haven't found a place I like all that much, to tell you the truth," Bridget breathed, letting herself get caught up in the moment. Her body was pressed close against Seth's, his breath warm against her skin.

"Not even with Potter?" he asked, appearing surprised.

"It's never been like that," she whispered, hiding her face in his chest.

"You acted like it," Seth defended.

"I'm sorry. I was stupid and confused by your fighting and-I felt like I had to choose."

"You didn't," Seth protested, holding her in front of him. "If you and Potter have a purely platonic relationship than he nor I should have minded the way things were."

"But he did. Harry minds a lot of things that he shouldn't."

"Than you should have let that be his problem!" Seth exclaimed, his hands breaking free of their place on Bridget's body. Her skin felt cold where his had been.

"I was wrong and I apologized. What more can you ask of me?"

"I'm sorry," Seth moaned, gathering her up in his arms once more. "You look beautiful tonight, by the way."

"Thank you," she murmured into him before silence fell upon the two. It felt good to be in his arms again, almost as natural as it had before. Seth had said a lot of things that were right, and Bridget wasn't going to forget them.

The fire of an old flame had been ignited once more.

* * *

**Boy,** do I hate Seth. I mean, honestly, I dislike him. Shame I haven't killed him off already BUT he keeps forcing himself upon me and Bridget and don't you think the two fo them make a _lovely_ couple? I know! It's not my fault.


	27. Effects of the Rave

It had not been intended for the party to become a sleepover. Yet, despite the protest of half the faculty the students conjured themselves up sleeping bags and went to sleep right there on the floor just as soon as the dancing died down. Well, at least they wouldn't have to walk far for breakfast!

Bridget woke up groggily, surprised to find she was one of the first awake. She was lying next to Seth, she realized with a jolt, and a small scream erupted from her lungs. She'd not been expecting this whatsoever, and wondered grumpily if she'd ended up in any compromising positions last night.

If she had she was not the only one, though, for as she gazed across the hall she saw tons of bodies piled on top of each other, it seemed. Proudly, Bridget smirked. Her party had been a hit.

Quite suddenly, a shot of red jumped up from the crowd, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the bodies.

"Where am I?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Bridget's eyes brightened, waving.

"Looks like you survived the equivalent of a Hogwarts holocaust," she retorted.

"Excuse me?" he muttered, though it sounded a lot more like a made up language than English. "Oh, shove it. I'm going back to bed."

"Well," Bridget huffed. "Boys like you are overrated anyway."

"Boys like who?" a familiar masculine voice questioned from beside her. Shivers went up her spine as she smiled down upon Seth, who had awoken quite gracefully and pulled himself into a sitting position. Bridget had to admit, she was pleased to be waking up next to him instead of a grumpy Ron. He was a much more pleasant character in the morning.

"Never mind," she sighed, laughing quietly. "I'm just a little," she cut off, waving her arms around dramatically to better describe the way she felt like mush inside and out.

"You and the rest of the school," Seth quipped, gazing disbelievingly upon his student body. Bridget rolled her eyes, wondering if she'd melt before him.

"Yes, well, this school doesn't have very much practice apparently."

Seth nodded, making a humming sound in agreement. They smiled at each other for a moment, blissfully gazing into each other's eyes as if from an old romance movie. Bridget had never noticed before how Seth's baby blue eyes twinkled in delight at the sigh of an amusement.

"So what was last night about anyway," he coughed nervously, trying desperately to pull off a casual conversation.

"What did it look like?" Bridget teased, though her voice was rough. There was a sinking feeling inside of her that it wasn't just from waking up, though. A deaf man could anticipate the conversation coming forward.

"I don't know," Seth murmured. "It felt like we'd connected again."

"It did," Bridget agreed. "It was nice."

"Well," Seth started, looking up at her hopefully. He had a sort of innocent expression on his face, one Bridget could place on that of a child. She grinned at him encouragingly.  
"If it was so nice I was wondering if you wanted to make it official."

"Are you sure? I mean, I broke up with you and you just seemed-"

"You yourself said that was stupid."

"I can't even remember why it happened," she admitted, looking down in shame.

"Then we can be together again?"

"Yes. Yes we can."

Seth's face lit up, the same childish expression glowing clear on it as he placed a hand on Bridget's face, bringing her in for a light kiss. A blush crept up upon her cheeks as she kissed back, enjoying the moment she'd missed so desperately.

They broke apart after a moment and Bridget fell back down on the floor, sighing blissfully.

"Are you happy?" Seth asked, concerned for a moment. Bridget closed her eyes, letting her smile widen.

"Yes. Just tired, I think. I'm not much of a morning person," she paused, inhaling deeply. "But I've never been happier."

--

"I have to tell you something," Hermione confessed at lunch, leaning in towards her two best friends. The school, by now, had recuperated. Classes were slowly coming back into session, students returning to their daily routines.

"What's up?" Ron questioned, pausing to swallow.

"I woke up early this morning and Seth and Bridget got back together."

"That's great!" Ron exclaimed in-between bites. He did not sound very enthusiastic, though. His eyes flickered towards Harry's.

"Sure," the raven haired boy commented dryly. Admittedly, he could feel his stomach sink, his heart feeling with the same chagrin he felt the first time he saw them kiss. He'd stopped worrying about Seth since the break-up, and was not pleased to have him back in the picture. It was clear that the boy was not liked by Harry.

"Now Harry, I know it's difficult for you, but she's happy with him. And if you're both going to claim having no feelings for each other than I don't see why she shouldn't be with him," Hermione explained, eyeing Harry intensely. She had on her scolding face, one Harry recognized all too well. "So just behave yourself and don't pick any fights."

"Fine," Harry agreed belligerently. He didn't understand why he was so unhappy with Bridget's boyfriend. Things just seemed to flow nicer when he wasn't involved, though. It was obvious to Harry now, though, that he could not push Seth away no matter how hard he tried. They were perfect together, it seemed.

Harry just had to accept it. That was fine with him too, he thought angrily. They'd have pretty little blonde babies together and Harry wouldn't give a damn.

"Don't worry mate. It won't be that bad," Ron promised with a wink. "If you fancy her Seth doesn't have a chance-"

"I don't fancy her," Harry interrupted, his voice laced with fury. He felt lots of things towards Bridget, but fancying her was not one of them. He'd fight with everything he had to deny it too.

"What are you guys talking about?" Bridget questioned, sitting down. Harry didn't fail to notice the way her hand laced with Seth's, their fingers getting lost. Their skin tone was so alike it made Harry sick. It should be incest, having them together…

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly. "Just trying to get these lazy gits to give me back my notes."

"Oh?" Bridget asked hesitantly, eyebrow raised. Hermione nodded, smiling a little too innocently. She always had been a horrid liar.

"So I hear you and Seth got back together," Ron mentioned mischievously.

"You heard right," Seth interjected, smiling almost smugly. Harry winced. "Nothing could break us apart now."

"Lovely," Harry commented, his voice reaching a level of rude. "Am I invited to the wedding?"

"Oh come on, mate, you won't need an invitation if it's yours!" Ron teased, nudging Hermione and laughing. Bridget shot him a glare, all too aware of the sickened look on Seth's face. She ignored the hurt that flickered across his eyes, not bearing to look at them.

"Watch your tongue, Weasley."

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized, grinning weakly.

"I'm serious. No more obsessing over this. I tire of it."

Harry winced, forcing his mouth shut. Was the idea, even as a joke, that repulsive to her? He resisted the urge to be offended.

"Jeez, Riddle, no need to get defensive."


	28. Run Me Over

**Disclaimer: **The Potterverse belongs to J.K.R. I own nothing here, except for the characters I've made up on my own. However, if you steal my work and credit it as your own that is PLAGERISM. Which is illegal.

**A/N: **Perhaps, at one point, it was a bad idea to throw Snape into the already dramatic mess of the Seth/Bridget/Harry love triangle. However, it happened, and below you shall read the consequinces.

* * *

Light chatter filled the halls as the group of friends, carrying out their daily routine, forced themselves off to potions. To the Gryffindors potions class was the worst, filled with groans, loss of house points, and more detentions than one could gather in a whole year.

To Bridget, it was just another boring class school forced upon her. She could not share the hate her friends felt towards Snape, their greasy professor, and so stayed silent while they complained on and on until the very last moment when Snape walked through the doors, calling all attention to himself.

"You guys do realize you hate Snape, not potions. The poor subject's getting offended," Bridget interrupted Ron in the mist of his rant.

"No, no, I hate potions too, Snape or not. It only figures that the worst teacher teaches the worst subject," Ron argued, slumping down in his seat. Bridget raised an eyebrow, letting the frown on her face intensify.

"I happen to like potions," she countered. "And Snape isn't that bad either."

"Suck up," Ron muttered as Snape clapped his hands. Everybody faced forward to see his smirking face, a step up from the blank one they usually saw.

"It would appear," he started, glancing in Harry's direction. "That this class has become quite chatty recently. Now, we wouldn't want to miss something and so I've assigned a seating chart."

The class groaned.

"Potter and McMillan," he started. Seth and Harry looked up to face each other, dread flowing through each of them. Though neither had made any attempts to argue with each other they'd not made up either. Their relationship ran testy, the only thing keeping them civil a certain blonde in front of them.

This, of course, did not mean Seth couldn't very subtly cause Harry as much pain as possible. It was, after all, his fault that he'd broken up with his beloved girlfriend in the first place; he figured Potter could handle a bit of offhand remarks for one class.

"Riddle and Malfoy," Snape continued on and Bridget smiled, bounding over to her cousin. He was looking grumpy that morning, probably still upset about Bridget ignoring his warning the night of the party she'd thrown.

"I noticed you and that boy got back together," he commented as she sat down, though his face did not turn towards hers.

"Yeah."

"Good. He's semi-better than Potter and his gang. Just don't take him home to meat the parents, yeah?"

"Oh shut up, Malfoy. Everything's fine. Daddy dearest isn't going to kill me now, but if it makes you feel better I'll try to stay on my best behavior."

"It does, in fact," Draco grinned, finally turning to look at her. "I've always thought you were a little too careless."

"I've always thought you were a little too pompous," Bridget mimicked, showing off her teeth madly. Draco scowled, opening his mouth to retort when Snape interrupted.

"Malfoy and Riddle, you were moved to restrain from talking. Please, if you will, carry out that task."

"Didn't know Snape could say please," Bridget snickered, and in turn received Draco's eyes rolling as he turned to actually pat attention to class.

"Class, today we'll be making a sticking potion. Can any of you mindless students guess what, perhaps, would be the use of this?"

Hermione's hand shot up in the air, but the professor paid no attention, instead searching the room for one of his house's hands. Bridget crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat as she waited.

"Zambini?" Snape suggested.

"I'd imagine it would make somebody or something stick to you, Professor," the boy mumbled, a light blush flowing on his face. Bridget giggled, nudging Malfoy.

"You would be correct. This is used mostly for traveling, for those who seem to be dropping and forgetting things often. Today, you will be brewing this potion and then sharing it with your partner. The two of you will then stick together for the rest of the day."

"Sir?" Hermione squeaked, her arm raised up.

"Ms. Granger, ten points for speaking without permission."

"What if our partner is from a different house? Shouldn't we be paired with somebody of similar schedules?"

Snape sighed, seemingly not having thought of that before. He appeared annoyed about having to switch up the partners, but obliged anyway.

"For today, and today only, you will partner with your own house. Malfoy, be partners with Parkinson. Riddle, go with Potter. McMillan will be with Granger and then Crabbe with Goyle," Snape drawled on.

"Lucky you," Bridget quipped, joining Harry at his table.

"Not when your boyfriend's done with me," he laughed, eyeing Seth carefully. Bridget groaned, rolling her eyes.

"He'll have to get over it, then. This is for _school." _

Harry laughed as the persisted to brew the potion, something they could not seem to accomplish. Bridget had great difficultly keeping focus and Harry had to stop her numerous times from putting in the wrong amount of an ingredient. He knew, no matter whose fault it actually was, that he would receive the blame, Bridget getting off with nothing.

They finished last, it seemed, and by now most of the potions had been tested.

"Let's get this over with, then," he growled, annoying with the girl already. The damn sticking potion was going to be hell for him. He could hardly bare being close to her without magic involved, especially when she got exited.

"Half is poured over me, half over you," Bridget said, taking her half. Harry did the same and felt a warm sticky feeling spread through his body, as if gallon of butterbeer had just been poured all over him.

"Did it work?" Bridget squealed, her eyes closed. Harry sighed, beginning to walk towards the door when he was thrust back towards her, not even a few feet away.

"I'd say so," Harry grunted from the floor where he'd landed at her feet.

The day continued much like this, students schedules being changed for the day as they were forced to follow their partner. Bridget wondered vaguely how many teachers would be angry at Snape. She and Harry had traded off classes, taking turns skipping and attending each other's class.

It had worked quite well, actually, if you took out the wining that was involved and the arguing that took place almost every second of the day. They hadn't realized before how they counted on those classes to be separated from each other. Apparently the two clashed viciously when forced to spend so much time together.

Seth, himself, was finding himself growing tired of all the time with Hermione. It wasn't that he didn't like the girl, but he became so annoyed with watching his girlfriend with somebody else and Ron glaring at them jealously that he was glad to be free of her by the end of the day.

The day had been hard on him in other ways, though. In charms that day he'd fallen asleep and dreamt about walking in on Harry and Bridget snogging in a broom closet. She'd smiled at him then, as if she had done nothing wrong, and broken up with him before continuing her previous activities with Potter.

Luckily, Hermione woke him up before anything got too graphic.

"Where's Bridget?" he asked, panic washing through him. His breathing was heavy and he rubbed his eyes groggily trying to regain composure.

"Fighting," Hermione groaned, pointing to the back of the room where she stood, hands on hips, glaring at Harry.

"It's supposed to be _yellow!" _

"No. Green!"

"So they haven't been kissing?" Seth questioned, tearing his eyes away from the fight. Hermione stared at him in disbelief, about ready to start yelling at him as well.

"No, Seth. You were dreaming. That's what you get for falling asleep in class," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Are you deaf or have you just been ignoring those two? Even if they wanted to kiss their mouths are too busy arguing," Hermione complained, annoyed. Seth nodded, turning to face them again.

He didn't understand why he was so concerned about this. He knew Bridget would never hurt him like that, never cheat, and even if she would it wouldn't be with Potter. He knew, like the rest of the school, how they bickered constantly. He was sure, almost positive, that their minds had never gone in that direction.

So what did he have to worry about?

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**A/N:**

See? This chapter has only caused trouble amongst our leading characters.

If you like trouble, though, be sure to Review! Just a little note saying what you thought is all I'm asking as an author. Each one brightens my day up another notch on the scale.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter and have a wonderful day!


	29. Dirty

**Disclaimer: **As usuall, nothing is mine.

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The day had carried on much longer than anybody had expected, and by its end everybody was dead tired and annoyed with each other. Being stuck to one person was never a strong point in an Gryffindor, so as they sat lazily in the common room it was a relief as one by one couples began to break apart, returning to their proper places as far away from their partner as possible.

Seth, particularly, had let his unruly jealous run his day, focusing on nothing more than the fact that his girlfriend was stuck to another guy. It did not help that since the two had started late they were the last ones stuck together, for an hour after everybody else.

"What, did you do yours _wrong?"_ Seth complained, sighing exasperatedly.

"If we did it wasn't my fault," Harry defended, holding his arms in the air. Bridget grinned sheepishly.

"So I may have added a little extra wolfsbane, so what?" she laughed nervously, averting her eyes.

"You did this on purpose," Seth accused, pointing a finger at Harry. Bridget immediately turned back, giving Seth a look that could kill.

"Don't pick fights," she warned. "This is nobody's fault."

"Why don't you guys do something to pass the time!" Ron suggested happily. His partner had been Neville, a pleasant guy in comparison to all the other choices.

"Like what?" Bridget asked, giving her friend a disbelieving look.

"Why don't you, I don't know, sing a song," Ron prattled on, rolling his eyes.

"You sing?" Seth questioned, a shocked look on his face. Bridget smirked.

"You hadn't noticed?" Harry snorted, leaning against the couch and closing his eyes. "She's like a one woman orchestra."

"Well I've never really heard you!" Seth exclaimed, getting exited. "Sing!"

"I can't," Bridget protested, covering her face in embarrassment.

"Why not?" Ron demanded, nudging her.

"It's just that," she paused, glancing at Harry. "Lillian wrote all the lyrics and-"

"It's okay," Hermione consoled immediately. "You don't have to sing if you don't want to."

"No, it's okay, I just," Bridget paused once more, the wheels in her brain turning. "I just want to sing something new and there isn't a lyricist-"

"What's in your head, Bridget?" Ron asked, a sly smile appearing on his face.

"-Unless Harry wants to give it a go."

"Excuse me?" Harry shrieked, sitting up from his seemingly comfortable position. "No way."

"Come on!" Bridget pleaded. "Please? Maybe it's genetic!"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, not wanted to embarrass himself by showing the world his limited writing skills. He was unsure of how stupid anything he could think up would sound on Bridget's lips, where no horrible melody had ever come out of.

Yet, part of him wanted to try. His sister had been able to do it, and quite well, so why shouldn't he?

"Fine," he sighed just as a parchment was thrust into his hands.

Seth twisted his fingers together, the jealously raging again. He wasn't sure he wanted Bridget's "one woman orchestra" to become a group event. Though he'd never heard her sing, Seth knew Bridget's music was very close to her heart, and if she shared that with Harry where did that leave him?

He knew he was just being stupid and that by tomorrow they would have all forgotten about this and she'd be back to him, but he couldn't ignore feelings like this. He never could compete with Harry Potter, the boy who lived, who not only was famous for surviving, but also won almost every Quidditch game he played and was extremely handsome.

Not that Seth noticed, or anything. He just knew what people said about him, and there was almost nothing bad anymore.

It didn't help that Bridget and Harry were connected in so many twisted ways it made Seth's head spin. It should have been enough to drive them apart, but there they were composing masterpieces together.

"Oh come on, it's fine. Just be glad you don't have to sing it," Bridget complained, snatching the paper from his hands.

"Wait-"

…_How can you see behind my lies and into soul? Where the truth hides and is bubbling at my core…_

"You're a great singer," Seth breathed, having not realized before the voice she had on her. Bridget smiled proudly, her eyes bright with passion.

"Yeah, those lyrics weren't that bad either, mate," Ron laughed, shoving his friend playfully. Harry was beat red by then, frowning.

"That was stupid."

"It's okay. It was your first time," Bridget soothed, patting him. Ron snickered.

"That was dirty."

Hermione glared at him then, and then towards Bridget.

"You're rubbing off on him!" she accused, a frantic look appearing on her face.

"That was dirty too, 'Mione."

"You, of all people-" Harry started and before anybody could retort they were arguing again, the music from the music disappearing beneath meaningless bickering and loud voices.

As if they'd practiced it all before Ron and Hermione turned their backs on the two, facing their other friends.

"You get used to it," Ron promised Neville, grinning wickedly.

"You're just jealous!" Harry screamed. Bridget gasped from across the room, throwing a book in his direction.

"You're a right git, you know," she ranted, going off about all the things Harry did to annoy her. Hermione smiled deviously.

"Should we tell them the potions worn off by now or just let them keep tearing up the common room?"

Seth stood, having not realized that Hermione was right. He didn't care if she wanted to prank her friends; he wanted his girlfriend back from Potter.

"Bridget!" he called, grinning broadly. "You're free!"

"What?" she asked mid-throw.

"You guys aren't connected anymore," Seth elaborated. Harry exhaled in relief, throwing himself back on the couch.

"Thank God."

"I know," Bridget agreed. "Especially since we have to wake up early for Special Effects tomorrow."

"What do you think we're going to have to do now?" Hermione asked, the conversation turning again.

"I don't know," Bridget shrugged, but an imagine floated through her brain, distracting her from whatever they said next.

She should have told somebody sooner, she presumed, that the violet diary of her diseased friend lay in a drawer by her bed.

Now, she assumed, would be an opportune time.


	30. Just Harry

**Disclaimer: **All belongs to J.K.R. except my original characters and the plot

**A/N: **This chapter is nothing less than VERY VERY VERY cheezy, in case you were wondering. It's like grilled cheeze WOW. So enjoy it while you can.

**

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**

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For the first time since they had started the stupid class. Bridget volunteered herself to present first. Of course, she would have ended first anyway, but would rather save the time and arguments of deciding. Routine and predictability were far too evident in the class.

"The first day," Bridget started, struggling her words. "Lillian read a story from her diary, a book I found not long after her death," she paused then, her mouth opening and closing without sound. She couldn't bare to face her classmates, especially the ones that knew Lillian. Maybe this had been a bad idea after all.

"Go on," Esmeralda insisted encouragingly. Her deep brown eyes were sympathetic, though Bridget was sure she could never understand the loss that comes with losing a best friend.

"She started telling the story about a boy who represented good and then a girl who represented bad. She ended on the note that they had four things in common. Those four things being the fact that they were misunderstood, hopeless, in denial of their love, and without the faith to be impulsive.

"Perhaps the two needed each other. Though they would class horribly, their opinions viciously different, did they not say that opposites attract? If only they had faith! Apart they were half of a hole and only together would there be power, hope, and love. They linked together in ways the human brain could not comprehend. Their destinies traveled down different paths, but I knew if I could only show them each other disaster would cease to strike.

"I was willing to do whatever it took to bring them together, at whatever cost. It wasn't about me anymore. It had never been about me, really. The world wanted them. And who was I to go against mother nature?"

Bridget's eyes closed, the words ringing throughout the room. She ran a hand through her hair, the letters playing before her eyes. She'd memorized the piece of writing by now, having read it so many times over. It was often that Lillian shared her diary with Bridget, adoring the way she would congratulate the beautiful masterpieces of writing Lillian could concoct.

She'd not been showed this one, yet it was the only one that stood out to her, the meaning as clear as day.

"At first I thought it was just a story, despite the eerie connections I could pull from it. Once I realized the true meaning though, I was hesitant to share it, even if it had been her intentions that first day in class.

"Is it self-centered to think that it had been about me and the boy we've all known so well to be Harry Potter? She'd gone on about faith before, but I'd never paid much attention. I do wish I had because she had so much to say, even if it did sound like nonsense at the time.

"Lillian was my best friend and I refuse to believe that she died in vain. She didn't have any special powers or anything; she wasn't a seer. But I refuse to believe that her death was just a murder. She knew something that I didn't, that nobody knew, and she acted how she saw fit. I can't explain it right, exactly, but she's written out my future, Harry's future, the world's future. If we live through this war I thank her and nobody else."

Bridget didn't stop to gauge the class's reactions, instead retreating to the back of the room as quickly as she could. She found safety in Seth's arms, pleased that he wasn't connected to all the nonsense she'd just said. She couldn't look at Harry now, couldn't meet his eyes of emerald. After what she'd said Harry could either become furious or thankful and Bridget wasn't sure which one she'd like more.

It would have been easier if she just kept her mouth shut.

"You were brilliant," Seth whispered in her ear, kissing her on the cheek. Bridget shook her head, looking at nothing but the ground before her. Seth kept his arm wrapped protectively around Bridget, though whether this was to comfort her or himself it was unclear.

"I feel stupid, but this," she paused, looking up into her boyfriend's familiar face. "This has been bothering me since the first night."

"It's good you shared then," Seth assured her, brushing a lock of blonde behind her ear. "Though, I admit, you could have done it more privately."

Bridget didn't laugh at him as she usually would of, but instead favored to hit him in the arm. Seth frowned, saddened that humor could not heal the worries that etched themselves so deeply onto Bridget.

"S'not funny," she murmured into his chest.

"You're right," he agreed, though he did not allow himself to feel guilty. "Not funny."

"Oh, Seth," Bridget sighed, ignoring whoever had dared to go next after her. "I'm glad your normal."

Seth laughed weakly, nodding mindlessly. His mind traveled, though. Was that all she thought of him? Was he simply normal to her, as opposed to Harry who was what? She'd said she was glad he was normal, but could she mean that? Bridget was certainly not normal and didn't she deserve somebody of her caliber?

"Bridget?" Harry called from behind her, hurrying to catch up to the girl who was still hiding in Seth's arms.

"Make him go away," Bridget wined, covering her eyes in embarrassment. She'd never been embarrassed to talk to Harry before, except for that first day they'd met at the Burrow. It was strange being afraid to talk to him, especially now that they'd become friends. Even before, when they were enemies, she hadn't been afraid of him and his biting words.

"I'm not going away. You can't hide from me forever," Harry countered, grabbing her arm.

"Hey, she doesn't want to talk," Seth protested, glaring.

"She does, she just doesn't know it," Harry sighed, crossing his arms. "And either way I'm not leaving."

"Dammit Harry, do you pride yourself in being an insufferable git?" Bridget insulted, turning to face him for the first time.

"Well-"

"What is it you want?" she asked, her voice becoming quieter. "I'll talk."

"I wanted to thank you for that," Harry confessed, hurrying quickly to the point before she changed her mind. "You were right-she was right-and-"

"I get it," Bridget assured, grinning.

"I'm glad we're friends now," Harry told her, embracing her in a hug. Bridget laughed, hugging him back.

"Me too,"

"Did her diary say anything else?" Harry questioned as they broke apart. Bridget smirked.

"Girl stuff, Harry. You can't know."

"Bee-"

"I'm serious. There was nothing interesting."

"Please-"

"Harry!" a voice called from in front of them and Bridget turned to see the slim figure of Sam, the girl from the rave, bounding towards them.

"Hey Sam," Harry greeted, smiling. He had not forgotten about the diary and its alleged contents, but Sam was a nice distraction from Bridget's stubbornness. He liked the girl. She was pretty and though a year younger than him very smart. Plus, it appeared she liked him too.

"How are you?" she asked, grinning broadly.

"Good. You?"

"Same."

"What do you have next?" Sam inquired happily, and with genuine curiosity it seemed.

"Athermancy with Hermione," Harry told her, his eyes searching the corridor for his friend. She was a few feet away, talking with Bridget who had run off at the sight of Sam. Harry sighed.

"Lucky. I have potions," Sam complained, wrinkling her nose unhappily.

"Sorry," Harry winced.

"I better get going before Snape kills me," she sighed, hurrying off. "Bye!"

"She seems nice," Bridget commented, appearing at his side with Hermione and Seth.

"Sure," Harry agreed with a smile, though it did not reach his eyes.

"What's bothering you, Harry?" Hermione questioned, furrowing her brow.

"Nothing," Harry promised. "Let's go."

--

"Ah, Severus," the slimy voice greeted, glancing at his follower briefly. "What is the news of my daughter?"

"She's back with that McMillan kid," Severus Snape informed the Dark Lord, taking a moment to gauge his reaction. Gryffindors were not appropriate company for the daughter of Lord Voldemort, but it was better than where her intentions had been heading: Towards Potter.

"And with Potter?" the Dark Lord asked, reading his mind.

"They are still friends, and getting closer."

Lord Voldemort let out a scream of reach, turning his wand upon the potions master.

"She must come to me then."


	31. Obvious to the Love, but not the Lover

**Disclaimer:** It's not fair that I own nothing, but it is the reality. The Potterverse belongs to J.K.R.

**A/N:** It's sad and I'm pouting because this is another really short one, a dissapointing change to the a thousand plus I've been writing.

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"What's wrong with you?" Hermione Granger demanded from her best friend as they walked to class together. Harry turned to face her, surprise lingering in his eyes.

"What?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"You've been acting weird lately," Hermione pondered. "So come on and tell me. We're best friends."

"It's a guy thing," Harry mumbled, staring straight forward in favor of facing his friend.

"Unless it has to do with personal hygiene just tell me," Hermione countered, placing a hand on his shoulder. Harry stopped, squirming slightly.

"I don't know exactly how to say it."

"Then I'll say it for you," Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes.

"What-"

"You like her," Hermione cooed, staring at him hopelessly. "And don't try to deny it because I'm not only do I know you but I'm a girl and I can tell these things from a mile away."

"If your so smart than what am I supposed to do about this little problem?" Harry questioned, glaring.

"Aha! So you do like somebody!"

"I thought you said you knew!" Harry exclaimed in offense.

"I know you like somebody I just don't know which somebody it is."

"Well I guess you aren't as smart as you think you are," Harry muttered, turning away again. He didn't want to be talking about this; it didn't matter how much he could trust Hermione. If he didn't talk about it then it wouldn't matter.

"It's either Bridget or Sam. Does that make you feel better?" Hermione stated.

"Not really," Harry groaned. Hermione raised an eyebrow matter-of-factly. "I like Sam. She's a nice girl-"

"-And she likes you-"

"But I can't get rid of this feeling that Bridget _shouldn't_ be with Seth," Harry confessed, a red tint appearing on his face.

"And she should be with you?" Hermione asked.

"I didn't say that," Harry argued. "Anybody but Seth."

"I don't believe that for a minute, Harry. Are you saying you'd be okay if she went out with Ron?"

"No, I would not be okay with that because then you and Ron would be in an argument and I've have to deal with both of you, like I have so many times before," Harry explained.

"Fine, what about Neville?"

"Sure."

"So it really is just about Seth?"

"Yes, Hermione, I told you that," Harry groaned.

"Then you like Sam and don't like Seth," Hermione told him.

"No-"

"Exactly, Harry," she interrupted, placing a hand on her hip. "That's not all it is and you know it. But if you aren't going to tell me, fine." And with that Hermione Granger took a seat, a smug smile on her face. Harry gazed after her in disbelief, not yet willing to drop the conversation and focus on his studies.

He continued to think about what she'd said all through class, not hearing a word of what was being taught. He focused on one thing, and that was convincing Hermione she was wrong. Dead wrong, in fact, because hadn't Harry decided against getting a girlfriend a long time ago?

"I don't like either of them," Harry told her after class, smiling proudly.

"Whatever you say," she mused.

"No, I'm serious. You're wrong-"

"I'm never wrong," Hermione told him, holding out a slim finger.

"She's right," a voice chirped from behind as Sam came up and joined the conversation with a smile. Great, just what Harry needed.

"Thanks, Sam," Hermione grinned, sending a sly look in Harry's direction. She was enjoying this far too much.

"What are you guys talking about?" Sam questioned, keeping pace with Hermione.

"Nothing-"

"Harry's just making things far more complicated than they already are."

"Thanks for that, Hermione," Harry groaned.

"Oh, look, there's Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, grinning broadly. "Sam will you go tell him I'm sorry? We got in a fight earlier and I'm just afraid he won't listen to me-"

"I'm on it," Sam promised, hurrying over to Ron.

"What was that about?" Harry inquired. "You and Ron didn't-"

"Do you want me to talk to Bridget about you? I know you like her-even if it's just a little bit."

"Hermione-"

"Alright I will, but first I have to go off and explain to Ron why we were fighting," she winced, looking over at her boyfriend's confused expression.

The bushy haired girl was off, patting Ron nicely before stealing Bridget away from her boyfriend for a moment.

"I have to ask you something," she told Bridget, eyeing her carefully.

"Anything," Bridget assured.

"Do you love Seth?"

Bridget seemed shocked by this question, her eyes widening in despair. There wasn't a correct answer to that question.

"Yes," she murmured, though it was more to herself than Hermione.

"You don't, do you?"

"Hermione-"

But Hermione never got to hear what Bridget had to say, for Draco Malfoy had run up to them, shoving a letter in her arms. Bridget stared down at it in shock, her mouth opened in fear.

"Read it allowed."


	32. Knowing, but not Believing

**Disclaimer:** All belongs to J.K.R.

**A/N:** RAWR. another short chapter! What's up with this?

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_Daughter, _

_It has been too long since we have spoken, has it not? I feel as if there is a bit of bad blood between us, pardon the pun. How I do miss your-opinionated, shall we say-responses! To say I give you my deepest regrets for your loss of the Potter girl would be an understatement. _

_That being said, the people you associate yourself with are not worthy of somebody of your stature. You know you could do better, my daughter. If only you had found friendship with those Mr. Malfoy has, then perhaps things would work out better for you. Though, I might add, your disregard for the rules seems to be a trait passed on from myself. _

_Friday night, like before, I would appreciate you coming to meet me. Speak with Severus Snape for details. I await anxiously for the time when we will finally meet face to face. I do love seeing you, my daughter. We should meet more often, in fact. _

The letter was not signed, but it was no question who it was from. How many fathers did Bridget Riddle have? The answer would be one, the same one that sent her the letter she clutched to in fury at that very moment.

"You can't go," Hermione whispered, her eyes wide with shock. Bridget stared blankly at the words on the parchment, her voice not moving as she reread the letter over and over again. She'd been to see him once before this year and her best friend had been killed not a day after! Who was to say he would not do that same now?

Yet, was the risk he could do something far worse if she did not go too much to take?

"I am not afraid of him," she assured her friends and cousin. "He can not hurt me."

"He _can,_ Bridget. It may be physical or emotional but he will not hesitate ruin your life forever if you do not obey him," Draco warned, his face eager and pleading.

"All the more reason to go," she laughed, though it was cold and strange coming from her lips.

"You sound so fearless," Ron stated in awe. Bridget looked up, having not realized the small crowed that had gathered around her. Her closest friends, here for her in her time of need. And yet, Voldemort could steal them away from her at any moment.

"Fear, if not disobedience, will kill me."

"You can't go," Harry ordered, his voice louder than the rest. "I wouldn't."

"You are his enemy. I am his daughter," Bridget informed the boy. "I have no obligations to follow him, but I still must listen."

"It is dangerous!" Hermione cried, taking the hand of the blonde girl, fear written so clearly all over her face.

"If you want to go, I think you should go," Seth interjected strongly, though his voice faltered in the last words, fading into silence. Draco grunted, standing his ground and peering at the Gryffindors in rage.

"Don't listen to McMillan," he commanded. "He knows nothing of the Dark Lord's powers the way we do."

"And shouldn't I know better than all of you? Who's to say I don't hold the same powers?" Bridget shouted, determination written on her face.

"So do I," Harry countered, pointing to his scar. "I can speak parsletongue because of the monster!"

"What I don't understand," Hermione started. "Is why you are fighting for this. Why would you want to go?"

"He is my father, Hermione! Not any amount of rebellion can change that!"

"Look, Bridget," Draco interrupted with a finalizing tone. "If you really want to go who are we to stop you? You surly inherited his determination. But if you keep crawling back to him every time he calls you, you will regret one day. One day you will lose everything and it will be your own fault."

Draco Malfoy turned on his heal then, walking away from the group. Bridget stared after him, the dormant look still on her face. Emotion did not show through, a carefully placed wall erected.

She did not know than the truth that rung on her cousin's words, or just how prophetic they may be.

--

Later that evening Draco cornered his cousin's boyfriend, wand pointed out in fury.

"Malfoy," Seth hissed, though his could not hold the same amount of danger in his tone that the Slytherin could. The want was pressed against the Gryffindor's chest, digging holes into his sternum.

"Don't you dare encourage her to see the Dark Lord again. You are innocent now and do not know what could happen to her-"

"I support her decisions," Seth argued desperately, fear evident.

"And I support her life-the more often she sees her father the quicker she will fall."

"Look I'm her boyfriend-"

"And I her cousin. Now, if you want your life-and more importantly hers you will keep your mouth shut when it comes to matters such as these," Draco instructed.

"Seth?" the voice of ignorance called as Bridget appeared, looking for her boyfriend.

"Right here," Seth replied, breaking away from the grasps of Malfoy.

"Where were you?" she questioned, eyeing him suspiciously as she looked behind him in search for whoever he was talking to. Malfoy had disappeared, though.

"Looking for you," Seth lied with a smile.

"Oh," she said, accepting his answer without question. "Well tomorrow, just so you know, you're ditching class with me. I'm going to relax before facing my father," she informed him smugly. The indifference and fear had left her face by now, being replaced with a light smile.

Seth returned the smile, though chagrin flowed through his veins like poison.

Tomorrow was Friday.


	33. Put on Some Clothes!

**Disclaimer:** All is not mine, but J.K.R.'s

**A/N:** and YAY for decent sized chapters again.

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For the first time in a long time Bridget was wide awake very early in the morning. She'd already decided to skip classes that day; it was only Friday and she'd just catch up over the weekend with Hermione. There was already too much to think about anyway and Bridget knew even if she did attend her classes she wouldn't remember anything from them, wouldn't pay attention anyway.

Bridget did not want to be alone that morning, though, so with a smile she pulled on some clothes and headed off towards the Gryffindor common room, where her friends now resided in their beds, probably asleep. She could change that, of course, preferring her friends when they were coherent.

She skipped by the girl's dormitory, in favor of her male friends so early in the morning. It was much funnier when they were grumpy, anyway, and Hermione was just plain scary when she was forced to do something she didn't want to.

Besides, Bridget had never seen a boy sleep before!

The first person she saw when she entered the seventh year's room was Ron, his wild red hair sticking out pleasantly from the blankets that covered the rest of his body. He was snoring loudly, blocking out the rest of the noises that came from the boys as they slept. Apparently, seventeen year old boys couldn't be quiet, not even in their sleep.

Next to Ron was Harry, perhaps the only one who didn't snore, for he was tossing and turning per usual. His blankets were uneven, covering very little of his body as he rested, clutching on to something that wasn't there. Bridget wondered sadly when the last time he had a good night's rest was.

Bridget moved on quickly, heading towards the destination she'd intended in the first place. At the edge of the room, by a window, lay Seth, curled in a cute little ball and eyes shut tightly. Bridget giggled softly, glad nobody was awake to see the light blush that crept on her face as she watched the boy slumber.

"What are you doing?" a masculine voice asked from behind her. Bridget jumped, turning around to face to speaker, eyes wide with fear.

"Oh, it's just you," Bridget sighed, grinning softly. Harry had awaken, being the light sleeper he was, and was sitting up in bed, staring at her. Bridget's cheeks darkened as she realized her wasn't wearing anything but a pair of boxers, apparently not having expected visitors so early in the morning.

"So sorry to disappoint you, but it is me who sleeps here," he retorted, crossing his arms. They looked so nice in the moonlight; he really was fit…

"Damn, Harry, put on some clothes!" she complained, trying to play off her attraction as a joke. She had a boyfriend and couldn't go around staring at her mate's chest all day. Harry looked down at his chest, loosening his arms, and shrugged. Bridget rolled her eyes, turning back towards Seth.

A devious smirk appeared on her face as she shoved him violently, trying to wake him up. She spent the next five minutes, to no avail, pushing and prodding Seth in an attempt to wake him up. Behind her, Harry snickered.

"Glad I'm not your boyfriend," he scoffed, only half believing it. He was content with the way he relationship stood with Bridget, though he still didn't like Seth.

"Lucky you," Bridget said dryly, just as Seth opened his eyes. Still not fully awake he waved his arm in the air, trying to get the annoying pest out of his face.

"He's really nothing compared to Ron," Harry commented once more, eyeing the situation with amusement.

"Well I guess it's lucky Ron's with Hermione, isn't it?"

"Lucky you," Harry mimicked. Bridget groaned, throwing her arms up in the air in defeat. Seth still wasn't fully awake and she was coming restless.

"How do I wake him up?" she cried. Harry smirked, a strangely unfamiliar look appearing on his face, lit only by the weak sun rising in the distance and spreading its light upon the otherwise dark room.

"McMillan, wake up, mate, you're girlfriend's all naked up here and-oh! She's getting closer-"

"Are you looking?" Seth grumbled as he made a move to sit up, his eyes still squeezed shut.

"Well yeah, sure there isn't much to look at-"

"Excuse me?" Bridget shrieked, glaring at him. Seth's eyes fluttered open, his body now wide awake as it waited for his mind to catch up.

"Potter, I swear," Seth growled, turning towards his roommate in a look of pure fury. Harry sat in all his topless glory, smiling so hugely Bridget was afraid his face was going to fall off. Seth's eyes then turned to her and when he saw her clothed and decent his glare only hardened.

"She wanted you awake," Harry shrugged.

"Not funny," Seth seethed, cheeks turning red in embarrassment. Bridget was glad she wasn't the only one thrown off by the whole situation. Why did Harry have to be so damn cocky?

"For you."

"At least I wear a shirt to bed," Seth mumbled, pulling at his one white tee.

"Just because you don't have anything to show off-"

"Well then," Bridget interrupted, hand placed lightly on her hip. "I think this is enough testosterone to fill my day with joy."

"And enough chest," Seth grumbled, still in a fuss over Harry's torso.

"Hey now, I wasn't expecting some girl to come jumping up here all intent on waking the whole year up," Harry defended, holding his hands up in innocence.

"At least I have a girl to come up," Seth laughed, pulling on some clothes over the ones he was already wearing.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry frowned, slightly put out by the statement. He quickly forgot about it though, finding it too early in the morning to be anything other than amused.

"Can we just go?" Bridget pleaded, her eyes wide and anxious. "It's you two who are going to wake up your roommates."

"Off with you then," Harry joked, waving at her. "Don't do anything too horrible."

Bridget glared, grabbing Seth's hand in the mist of him putting on socks. She mumbled something neither boy could understand and didn't stop until both she and Seth were out on the grounds, away from the sounds of immature boys and teachers with too much homework.

"You okay?" Seth questioned, staring at her with concern. Bridget ran a hand through her hair, sighing.

"Yeah, I just can't be in there today."

"Was it Potter?" Seth asked, scowling as the name escaped from his lips. Bridget shook her head, smiling encouragingly.

"Is that what bothers you?"

"Me and him just don't get along, love," Seth admitted, shrugging.

"You guys seem fine with each other. Have you been fighting?"

"No, we can't manage to get along, that's all," Seth explained, shaking his head as his eyebrows knit together in thought.

"Are you jealous?" Bridget inquired slowly, after a moment's silence.

"No!" Seth exclaimed. "Should I be?"

"Well he did look pretty good with his shirt off…." Bridget laughed.

"It's not funny," Seth told her, glaring.

"For you."

"You even sound like him!" Seth yelled, turning away from her.

"No, come on Seth," Bridget amended, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We're just friends and I guess we rub off on each other-"

"Let's just drop it," Seth decided.

"Okay," Bridget agreed softly, kissing him. It lasted only a second, though, just like all their other kisses. Bridget struggled sometimes, with showing Seth the same amount of love his showed her. Her mind traveled places with him, never quite focusing. She felt guilty for it, because couldn't force upon herself emotions that weren't there in the first place.

"Do you fancy Potter?" Seth blurted, breaking away.

"I thought we were dropping it!"

"Don't change the subject."

"Harry is my friend," she whispered, staring at the ground.

"Close friend?"

"I guess…"

"Would you put him and Ron in the same category?" Seth questioned.

"No, I guess not," Bridget confessed. "But I'm close with Ron and you don't care about that!"

"Because it's different with Potter and you know it. Do you fancy him?" Seth repeated, crossing his arms in stubborn annoyance.

"No!" Bridget defended. "It's just different because we can talk."

"We can talk too, Bridget."

"Not about the things," she broke off, shaking her head in grief. "Not about my father. Not about the war. Not like Harry can."

"And that's it?" Seth murmured, not having to question why. He knew he couldn't compete with Harry in relevance to Voldemort, could never understand those things the way his girlfriend could. Enemies at heart, but having gone through similar losses, Seth would have to accept their friendship and trust her.

"That's it," she promised.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I trust you."

Bridget grinned, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. The bright look on her face had returned, a bubbling happiness radiating off every inch of her skin.

"Thank you. That means to the world to me."

Bridget released him, gathering his hand in hers. She really did like Seth, and adored him for trusting her. Yet, she had a feeling that this would not be the last of their discussions over Harry. A problem like the Boy Who Lived did not go away so easily.


	34. Alone

**Disclaimer:** The Potterverse belongs to Rowling. Not me.

* * *

The twigs and branches scratched the Riddle daughter happily, pleased to touch their wood with skin, scratching off cells and leaving behind drips of blood.

Bridget Riddle did not feel them, though, and even if she could her mind was too wrapped up to notice. Her stomach churned anxiously as she retreated deeper and deeper into the forest, on the way to meet her father as all her friends' warning echoed in her brain. She should have listened to them…Should have stayed at home…Should have been born to somebody-_anybody_-else…

Bridget Riddle wasn't herself anymore, though. The closer to got to seeing her father the higher her walls built themselves up, the more her attitude changed. Words spoken just hours before were forgotten, part of another word, another lifetime, another Bridget.

Bridget Riddle was Voldemort's daughter. She wasn't Seth's girlfriend, Harry's friend, Ron's companion, Hermione's confident, or even Draco's cousin. She was only Voldemort's daughter, so important, so desperate, so cold.

She could deny it, declare her disobedience all she wanted but when the sun set and he called her to him she would always answer, always be his own, never completely tearing herself away. The difference between who she was now, who she transforming to be, was so striking had her outward appearance not changed at all you wouldn't even know it was the same girl.

The part, however minuscule it was, that was dark, the was like her father, came out and in turn Bridget was losing her head.

She showed no emotion, happy or sad, as she walked through the woods, for her father had taught her emotion was a weakness. If she were to ever give any part of herself away she would succumb to another and according to Lord Voldemort that was wrong, a fate far worse than death. But hadn't she already succumbed to him?

Bridget really couldn't explain it. There were no words that could describe what happened to her when she came face to face with her father, how she subconsciously prepared for it. It was strange to be like this with her father, because when she wasn't around him she was defiant. She stood by her own beliefs, so different from his, and kept herself in check. She thought she was _different. _

With Voldemort, though, as she came to meet him, she tried her best to act in ways that would please him. As much as she hated her father he still affected her in ways she couldn't explain, ways she hated, but ways she knew would connect them forever.

Her body did not ache as she ran, having lost the ability to feel pain with her birth. She knew that conversation would come up with her father, and she imagined the conversation in her head. Would he be proud or furious?

Bridget recognized the portkey that would take her to her father immediately. She hated how he had to make things so difficult, but she supposed not just anybody could come find him the way she could. She picked the portkey up, feeling the familiar twist in her stomach as she traveled far, far, away.

It was raining where he hid out, storming almost, but Bridge stood tall and strong without a care for the fact that she was getting soaked as she walked to the small cottage where she knew her father awaited her.

As she walked she became, finally, Voldemort's daughter. She was stubborn, emotionless, powerful, but most recognizably alone. There was no other in her position, no other who could share this turmoil she went through daily. Her best friend had been torn away from her and even her relationship with her boyfriend felt one-sided.

Perhaps, the only person she could truly relate to was the worst of them all, Harry. They shared so many of the same qualities, but argued to much because of it, ruining friendships that took so much effort to build up. So what if she'd shown him the pieces of her she'd never shown anybody else, not even Lillian? They could never get past the walls that stopped them, never escape from the chains that bound them.

They, Harry Potter and Bridget Riddle, were both alone because of the same person. And yet, they could never leave the place of isolation for Lord Voldemort trapped them there, by purpose, leaving them to rot in their own personal cell worse than the darkest corners of Azkaban.

It was no surprise Lord Voldemort ridded himself of emotion when it pained so much as this. It would be better to be numb than to feel the pain of solitude, regret, loss.

Bridget stood in front of the door to the cottage where her father resided, not yet willing to open the door. She knew it would be a painful hour and her body shied away from the pain it knew it would receive when she saw her father's face.

Lord Voldemort caused pain beyond that of the forgivable curses. He hurt directly, aiming straight for the life, the heart, the most important treasures of all. Her hurt by his actions, causing a pain that could not so easily be healed by healers in wards of white.

Sighing, the girl raised her hand to nock on the door, only to have it opened by one Peter Pettigrew, the betrayer of friends. She knew of what he'd done to his friends and a burst of energy flowed through Bridget; she would not be like that.

"Who are you?" he stuttered, sizing her up carefully. Bridget glared.

"Oh, nobody important. Might as well be Harry Potter," she drawled on, sarcasm lacing her tone with a perfection rarely heard on others.

"How did you find us?" he demanded, ignoring her silly jokes. How could it not be obvious who she was?

"Silly rat," she muttered, pushing him aside as she walked inside the cottage. There was a fire crackling loudly inside and Bridget shivered, not realizing she was cold until she felt the warmth. If it weren't for the fact that the most powerful dark wizard of the age were in the room it might have been quaint.

"Daughter, please, ignore Wormtail's rude behavior. Have a seat," her father greeted, the echo of a smile appearing on his face. Bridget obeyed silently. "How have you been?" he asked almost politely, as if they were having a casual conversation.

"As good as one can hope," Bridget responded, staring intently at the flames before her. Could fire kill the devil himself? If this house suddenly burst up into flames would Voldemort die along with her? It was a silly question, but Bridget guessed he wouldn't. He wasn't human enough.

"I heard from a little rat that you're immune to pain. How could I not have known?" he muttered the last bit to himself, his long fingers crossed delicately upon his lap.

"It slipped my mind," Bridget retorted.

"I must confess," Voldemort started, "I was a bit disappointed when my daughter told her friends before her father. Friends that happen to by my enemies."

"I figured they'd care more," Bridget defended, laughing icily. "They care about me more than you ever will."

"All the same," Voldemort said, leaning forward. He didn't deny Bridget accusations, but instead turned the subject. "They are not the sort you should be associating yourself with. Pain will only come from those relations."

"You are the one that said such emotions were weak," Bridget argued.

"For me, of course, but your for? Perhaps I have not analyzed the situation carefully enough."

"Do you have any other suggestions then, death father?" Bridget snapped, turning to meet his red eyes with a glare. Her jaw was set, her teeth grinding against each other.

"Why couldn't you have chosen your company amongst the Slytherins? You know I was of that house and your cousin-"

"When will this end?" Bridget interjected, not wanting to hear long speeches about the great wizards coming from the house of snake. "This fighting, it appears endless."

"The point being you shall cut relations with Gryffindors," Voldemort stated, ignoring her interruptions.

"No!" Bridget exclaimed, standing. "I would fare better off cutting relations with you!"

"Cru-"

"Stop it," Bridget hissed. "I won't feel it even if you try. You're running after something you can't kill. You're hopeless," Bridget ranted, becoming furious with her father.

"You will realize, one day, that yelling at me is not the best choice," Voldemort seethed, lowering his wand. "You will realize what life will be like once you cross Lord Voldemort!"

"I don't need to hear this," Bridget muttered, turning towards the door.

"I was hoping, dear daughter, that it would not have to come to this. But I'm afraid it has," he whispered into the night, watching his daughter retreat back to the comforts of her school.

Lord Voldemort laughed, pleased with the plans that formed so delicately in his mind. He would have his daughter and she would be his. The nonsense about Potter would end, the sins she would commit outweighing any good deeds.

Yes, Voldemort would have his daughter returning to him, and he wouldn't even have to kill somebody.

The only question remaining, was why was he so hesitant?


	35. Kiss From a Rose

**Disclaimer: **Potterverse belongs to Rowling.

**A/N:** Oh my! It's the chapter we've all been waiting for...Sort of. Not paticularly.

* * *

There was not a particular reason for Harry to be roaming the halls of Hogwarts so late at night, other than the fact that he had not seen Bridget since this morning. All day worry had distracted him, the thought of what she was probably facing right now sending chills up his spine. He'd been so light hearted when he saw in the morning, cocky and arrogant, but now he was practically pulling his hair out with fret. He'd not realized he cared for the girl so much until now.

While Bridget remained elusive, lost in the word of Lord Voldemort, Harry had seen Seth. The boy, who should have been quiet cheerful about the alleged day he spent with his girlfriend, seemed downhearted. Was it worry that plagued his mind, or could it be something more, something that had happened during the day?

"Who's there?" a voice called into the night and Harry winced, recognizing it at once. Professor Snape was roaming the halls and Harry berated himself for coming only in cloak and without the map. It wasn't as if Snape could see him, but being within proximity of the slimy git could cause enough trouble in itself.

"Sorry, Professor," a female voice whispered from behind him and Harry had to struggle not to turn around so quickly that the cloak flew up. He saw Bridget then, emerging from the shadows.

"Oh, it is just you," Snape said, settling down as if it were normal for the blonde to be wandering the halls at night. Harry realized then that he must have known she was meeting Voldemort that night. He could have been expecting her for all Harry knew.

"Who were you expecting?" Bridget teased, laughing quietly. Her voice seemed weak, though she didn't appear to be hurt. It wasn't like Harry would know, anyway. She wouldn't limp from pain if she was.

"Nobody," Snape said, his eyes hardening in a glare. "You should be in bed."

"Off to my dorm I go," Bridget hummed, starting past Snape.

"Your respective dorm," he added. Bridget frowned, turning on her heal and walking past towards Harry. Snape eyed her carefully to make sure she was heading in the right direction before sweeping his cloak and walking away.

Harry too the moment to job after Bridget, pulling his own cloak off.

"Hey," he breathed, keeping step with her.

"What are you doing up?" she asked, turning to face him in shock. "And where did you come from?"

Harry grinned mischievously, holding up the cloak for her to see. Her eyes widened, if that was possible, before reaching out to touch the material, letting it flow between her fingers.

"Couldn't sleep," Harry confessed with a shrug. Bridget smirked, linking arms with him as they began walking.

"Oh, I see."

"Please stop smirking like that. I can't stop myself from seeing Malfoy," Harry groaned, squinting his eyes.

"Oh and it just breaks your heart knowing he's not near, doesn't it?" Bridget cooed, ruffling his hair in delight. Harry winced, elbowing her.

_"Never_ allude to that again," he warned, staring straight ahead with a glare set tightly on his face.

"I'll try."

A comfortable silence then came upon the two, the only sound being their footsteps as they trotted quietly towards Bridget's room. A serious air had overcome their joking manner, though, and Bridget knew what was coming next. Her heart twisted, hoping he'd just let the subject drop.

"How was the meeting?" he asked, proving that all of Bridget's wishing was to no avail.

"Like all the other ones," she told him, her voice no higher than a whisper. She seemed sad about something, though perhaps she was always sad after seeing her father. Harry remembered the last time they'd met, early in the morning, after she'd given him a visit.

Perhaps, Harry should have let this fact shake his trust, but she'd been so open and honest about the visit. Had her father been anybody else she wouldn't have gone to see Voldemort. There was a trust Harry held with her, and though it had developed slow it was strong. She could visit him all she wanted, but as long as she stayed on Harry's side that trust would never falter.

He only feared for her, because it took so long for her to return to normal after seeing him.

"Did he hurt you, like last time?" Harry questioned, looking her over once more.

"No," Bridget assured him. "He tried to but it wouldn't have made a difference."

"So he found out then?"

"Yeah. It was inevitable, but guess who I did see?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Who?"

"Wormtail."

"Oh," Harry hissed, gritting his teeth. The name brought pure fury boiling in his veins, the urge to kill the foul traitor strong.

"He was an idiot, didn't even know who I was. So I told him I was you."

"And he believed it?" Harry snorted, momentarily forgetting his hate.

"I don't know, but I think he was considering," Bridget laughed, covering her mouth.

"I can't believe my parents were ever friends with that slimy git," Harry growled.

"I know. He just doesn't seem the type."

"So how was your day with Seth?" Harry inquired, once more changing the subject to save them from more silences and unwanted questions. Perhaps they could maintain a normal conversation without argument, though that was doubtful now that Harry had brought up her boyfriend.

"Fine," Bridget said, smiling as she turned to face him. They'd reached her room and now stood in front of it, staring at each other. Time seemed to slow as Harry smiled at her, his bright green eyes shining with a happiness Bridget did not recognize he had before.

He ruffled his hair nervously, a light laugh escaped his lips. Bridget stared at them for a moment before her eyes returned to meet his. Without knowing what she was doing, Bridget reached out her hand to touch his hair, which was soft from the castle air and messy from a long day of fret.

"It's so _messy,"_ she sighed, stepping closer to him. Her motions were slow as she let his shaggy her flow through her fingertips, much like she had with the invisibility cloak just a few minutes before.

She felt warm, the heat that could only from a boy reaching her skin as she realized just how close she and Harry were. He was staring at her arm, watching as she touched him so delicately, like he was precious heirloom.

If it was possible, time seemed to slow even more as she brought her hand down from his hand, resting it on his shoulder. Then, without thinking, she stood on her tiptoes and brought her lips lightly to his.

The moment was short, though it felt like it lasted a lifetime as Harry immediately responded to her touch, his lips moving in time with hers. Like life was in slow motion Bridget pulled away, her eyes closed, and licked her lips, savoring the taste of Harry.

He stared at her in wonder and they relished those last moments post-kiss where reality had not yet kicked in.

Eventually it did, though, and reality kicked hard.

"Shit."

"Today just isn't your day," Harry drawled, shrugged.

"I have a boyfriend. Why didn't you stop me?" she demanded, pointing a finger at him in accusation.

"Excuse me?" Harry shrieked, crossing his arms. Bridget ran a hand through her hair.

"You could of pushed me off or something," Bridget seethed.

"What difference would it have made? Don't go blaming this on me because it is _you_ who kissed me first!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his arms up in exasperation. They were _not_ going to fight about this because Harry did _not_ do anything wrong.

"I have to go," she mumbled, fear glowing bright in her eyes as she retreated into her room, slamming the door in Harry's face. Harry stared at the wood blankly, replaying what had happened in his mind.

It had been so fast, though time had moved so slow when it happened, and Harry felt as if he'd had an out of body experience. It couldn't have been him that kissed another mate's girlfriend, could it? Plus, he didn't feel like that towards Bridget. She was his friend and hardly that; had they really just ruined everything?

Why, exactly, had he kissed back then? He wasn't going to deny that he enjoyed it, either. She was so warm on his lips, so close to his body, her hands sending shivers down his spine…

Nothing made sense anymore.


	36. Everything You Want

**Disclaimer:** Jo owns everything.

The lyrics are by Vertical Horizon "Everything You Want"

* * *

_He's everything you want  
He's everything you need  
He's everything inside of you  
That you wish you could be  
He says all the right things  
At exactly the right time  
But he means nothing to you  
And you don't know why_

Bridget hummed lightly to herself, though she felt as if she was screaming. Silence, aside from her voice, engulfed the room where she resided, a pout on her face. Suddenly, so quickly she couldn't remember how, Bridget's life had fallen to pieces.

Voldemort's threats rang though her head, a constant reminder that Draco was right, she was in trouble. While there was no guessing what the Dark Lord would do next, Bridget could certain nothing good would come out of it. She would lose everything, that is, if she hadn't already.

She'd kissed Harry.

She'd kissed Harry James Potter _while_ she was dating Seth McMillan, a boy that Harry Potter did not get along with in the least.

Was that why Harry kissed her back? Because he'd definitely kissed back and her lips tingled at the memory. Was it out of spite that they'd done what they did, or could Harry possibly feel anything of that nature towards her.

Did she felt hat way about him?

The answer should have been clear. If Bridget had kissed him than she must like him! Yet, her whole body ached in denial. It wasn't possible for her to fancy her father's worst enemy. It was by luck that they even became friends and expecting anything more would be crazy talk.

Bridget stood, gathering her bag as she headed off to class. She hadn't been in a while it seemed, and it would be a good excuse to get her mind off things. Of course, it was shame you could think while walking.

What was she going to do about Seth, Bridget wondered. She liked her boyfriend, of course, but could she trust herself to be faithful? Obviously not. Bridget wouldn't allow herself to do that to Seth and hopefully from now on Harry would be more careful as well.

Bridget entered transfiguration and sat next to Draco in the back, biting her lip with nerves. She couldn't tell what her emotions were saying, where they started or ended, but she couldn't find any regret for kissing Harry, aside from the fact that she was going to have to tell Seth now.

"How was the meeting?" Draco hissed, pulling her out of her thoughts. Bridget frowned, the time spent with Voldemort weighing heavily down upon her, though it felt like it was a lifetime away. Was that why she'd kissed Harry? Was it out of defiance for her father?

"It was normal," she told her cousin, shrugging.

"Oh thanks for the info," Draco mumbled sarcastically, turning to face McGonagall.

"I already explained it to Harry. If you want to know so bad go ask him," she snapped on impulse, though immediately regretted it. She shouldn't have brought him up; Draco would know something was up now. Bridget squirmed uncomfortably.

"What happened?" he repeated. "With Potter, I mean."

"I kissed him," she confessed, finding no harm in telling her cousin. She had to tell somebody, too. Keeping it bottled up inside of her wasn't turning out so well and maybe Draco could give her some clarity.

"Who'd you kiss?" Ron hissed, turning around. Bridget jumped, having not noticed her friend sat right in front of her, or that he'd been listening on the conversation.

"None of her concern, Weasel," Draco retorted in an attempt to block him from the conversation. Bridget, somehow having lost the ability to control her tongue, blurted it out once more, for the second time that day.

"Harry."

"What?" Ron whispered, her eyes widening.

"Keep it quiet and I'll tell you about it later. Now turn around before McGonagall starts taking points," Bridget demanded, waving away her friend. Ron scowled, turning back to the front of the room and mumbling.

"I should have known."

Bridget turned her attention back to Draco, who was staring at her with a look of disbelieve on his face. Bridget's face crumpled and she buried her face in her hands.

"You kissed Potter? That's pretty low, even for you."

"I know," Bridget cried. "What am I going to do? I have a boyfriend!"

"Look, just try to forget about it," Draco suggested. "After class I'll play you in Quidditch."

"Harry plays quidditch," Bridget countered, avoiding the topic of the magical sport.

"Wow, Bee-"

"I'm sorry!" she sighed, laying her head down on her desk in shame. She'd really made a mess of things this time.

--

"How's Bridget?" Hermione asked that morning, blissfully ignorant to the events that had happened the night before.

"Fine," Harry squeaked, wishing Hermione could talk about something else.

"So You-Know-You didn't…?" she trailed off.

"No. She's fine," Harry assured, though his voice faltered. He hadn't fully realized until that morning the extent of what had happened the night before. It sounded so strange when he thought about it, the fact that Bridget had kissed him. The whole idea was crazy, the equivalent to Ron becoming a pop star.

Yet, Harry had enjoyed the kiss, being wanting the kiss, was not completely repulsed by the kiss.

Harry shook his head. He wasn't going to be the type of guy who went after other mate's girlfriends, even if they were Bridget Riddle. It was no secret she was different, eccentric, special. If he was her boyfriend, which he wasn't, Harry would probably be just as overprotective as Seth was.

He diverted his attention then, from the girl he'd kissed just last night. He'd think about something else, another girl, possibly. Had Hermione said that Sam liked him? She was year younger, but very pretty and certainly nice. She was normal enough as well. Perhaps he'd try things with her and in no time Bridget would be forgotten, just a mistake in the past.

Yes, it sounded like a very good plan to Harry.

--

Bridget's body felt hot, like there were snakes of fire twisting and turning all through her. Anxiety was controlling her movements, which were jerky and disconnected. If only she could go back in time and _not_ kiss Harry than maybe everything would be alright. This mess would be gone and she could worry about more important things, like Voldemort.

With the memory of Harry's lips on hers, though, it was hard to concentrate on her father. It was hard to concentrate on anything, really.

"Are you still dating Seth?" Ron asked, catching up with Bridget. She turned to face him, running a hand through her hair, a familiar desperate look on her face.

"Yes."

"But if you kissed Harry-"

"Exactly," Bridget wined, throwing her hands in the air. At the same time her books fell to the floor, for she had forgotten she was holding them. A blush crept on her face as she bent to pick them up, ignoring Ron's snickering.

"Smooth."

"That never happened."

"You could say that," Ron said slowly, a sly look appearing on his face. "About Harry, I mean. Seth doesn't have to know."

"What?" Bridget asked, blinking.

"Just pretend it never happened," Ron suggested.

"But it _did_ happen and if I didn't tell Seth it would be wrong!"

"Exactly," Ron said smugly. "So you have to tell him."

"I know, but how?" Bridget questioned, in disdain.

"Well, like this," Ron's face then got high and squeaky. "Seth, love, I am so madly in love with Harry that we have to break up!"

"I don't sound like that," Bridget said dryly, glaring. "And I think there's a bit more to it than that."

"I'm not seeing it."

"Hermione's right, you do have the emotional capacity of a teaspoon."


	37. Sick Inside

**Disclaimer:** I do wish I could own it all...

**A/N:** Sadly, another short one. pouts Sorry.

* * *

Bridget and Harry had not spoken all day, partly because they hadn't come within close enough proximity with each other. Bridget was doing everything in her power to avoid him completely, hoping that perhaps the recent drama would disappear if he didn't exist. The plan was faulty, but it suited her quite well until it was due time to face the music and talk to him again. Until she'd dealt with Seth.

"You going to eat?" Seth asked, frowning as he gazed upon Bridget's vacant expression.

"No, I'm feeling a little bit sick," she admitted and it was not a lie. She couldn't get Harry out her mind, couldn't escape from the memories, couldn't bear to focus on the kindness Seth offered her. She felt like she was going to be sick, throw up, _anything,_ to release the growing tension inside of her.

"You should see Madame Pomphrey," he suggested, taking a bit of his own food. Bridget closed her eyes, though thought only causing a dizzy feeling to wash over her.

"I don't know if she'll be able to fix it," she mumbled, resting her head upon the table.

"Sure she can!" Seth countered with a grin. "She can fix almost anything." And with that he had Bridget by the hand, dragging her off the see the nurse. It would appear she had no choice in the matter, after all.

"Stop, Seth-" Bridget started, but could not finish, for whatever she'd meant to say got lost in the vomit that was climbing up her throat, landing on the floor just in front of their feet. Seth grimaced, stepping around the mess.

"Let's get you to the hospital wing."

--

"Is she going to be okay?" Seth asked, holding Bridget's hand as Madame Pomphrey examined her, her eyebrows knit in concentration.

"Yes," Madame Pomphrey decided after a moment's consideration. "Whatever it was has passed by now. Probably just nerves, sweetie," she told them. Bridget sighed, hopping off the bed she'd been sitting on.

"So I'm clean? I can leave?" she questioned, waiting in apprehension for the nurse's answer. She pursed her lips, sizing Bridget up once more.

"Yes-"

"Great! Thanks!" she squealed, breaking free of Seth's hand as she bounded out the door, thankful to have ridden herself of hospital reminders and prodding eyes.

"Madame Pomphrey, are you sure she's-"

"Come on, Seth," Bridget wined, turn on her heel to face him at the other side of the room.

"I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine. People throw up all the time without their boyfriend throwing fits. The world has not ended," she assured him, raising an eyebrow. How annoying, this over the top concern for her was. Couldn't he accept that nothing was wrong? Or could he, perhaps, sense that something was wrong and was desperately trying to figure out what it was.

It was obvious Bridget was acting strange, after all, and Seth wasn't naïve enough to go without excuses. Now she'd have to tell him, ending the relationship that wasn't really intended to last in the first place. A hand was placed firmly on Bridget's hip as she waited for her temporary boyfriend to catch up with her.

"Bee-"

"Alright, alright, you caught me, I'm pregnant," Bridget teased, trying to hint at the truth without really telling him. She turned on her heal then, leaving the wing. Seth hurried after her, a shocked look his face.

"Bridget!" he yelled, catching her arm and turning her around to face him.

"Seth," she teased, sniggering at his angered expression. "That was a joke."

"It wasn't funny," Seth grumbled, his mind catching up with him. Bridget stared at him hopelessly, exhaling loudly. The awkward silence intruded on them then, informing Seth that bad news was coming, beware.

"I'm sorry," Bridget whispered, looking him directly in the eye.

"It's okay," Seth said, though his face contorted into a look of confusion.

"Not just for the joke," Bridget added, running a hand through her already unruly hair.

"Does this have something to do with why you've been acting so weird today?"

"Yeah," Bridget said, her voice cracking pitifully. "Last night, after I got back, I kissed Harry."

Seth's jaw dropped, hurt flooding into his eyes. Anger masked the expression of pain as Seth ripped himself to shreds inside. He was torn, then, so many emotions plaguing his body he could barely speak.

"Why?" Seth managed to choke out, his voice low and dangerous.

"I don't know. It just _happened."_

"Did you like it?" Seth blurted, voicing the only question that would come to mind. It was silly, it seemed, as if it made a difference, but words seemed to fail the boy.

"I don't know," Bridget whimpered. "I was-"

"It was just last night, right?" Seth interrupted, the wheels in his head turning.

"Yeah, but-"

"So maybe you were just messed up from seeing your father. It didn't have to mean anything."

"Seth, no," Bridget told him and for a moment his mask broke, the pain shining through. "You know that it's not just that."

"You won't do it again, though? I trust you! Just forget about it!" Seth pleaded, his instincts fighting in one last desperate attempt to keep her.

"We can't!" Bridget shouted. "You can't take something like that away!"

"What are you saying, Bridget?"

Bridget smiled weakly, placing a hand lightly on Seth's shoulder. His body was shaking, emotions flooding and mixing, but the fight was ending now. The end had come, surely, but slowly, and everything changed again.

"We have to break up."


	38. Temporary Insanity

**Disclaimer:** All belongs to Rowling

* * *

"So you broke up with Seth again?" Hermione started hesitantly, gazing at her friend with a strange look on he face.

"Yes ma'am," Bridget commented dryly.

"Look," Hermione sighed. "I know that -"

"What bothers me the most, though, is that both breakups were over Harry," Bridget interjected, mostly talking to herself rather than Hermione. This seemed to only cause the bushy haired girl to sigh, though, a disappointed look appearing on her face.

"Bridget, you should know-"

"Excuse me?" a voice interrupted and Bridget turned around to see a stranger, momentarily forgetting Hermione. Her brain still hadn't recovered from the previous drama, and it traveled everywhere, not stringing sentences together correctly.

"Yeah?" she snapped. The boy quivered, noticing he was considerably shorter than the blonde seventh year.

"Never mind," he murmured quickly, running away. Bridget swallowed loudly, turning back towards Hermione.

"What were you saying?"

"Temper get the best of you?" she questioned, eyebrow raised in amusement.

"You could say that," Bridget muttered, shrugging. "My head's not where it's supposed to be right now."

"I would assume so."

"I have to start running again," Bridget complained, running a hand through her hair.

"Bridget, um, what makes you like to run so much?" Hermione inquired, struggling to keep pace with the girl who'd started jogging towards the great hall.

"I used to think I could run away from my problems, I guess. How metaphorical is that?" she laughed, quickening her pace.

"Or run towards them," Hermione sighed, coming to a stop and watching the disaster take place. Bridget, as was quickly known throughout the school, did not like to look where she was going when she ran. In fact, she might as well have kept her eyes clothes with the amount of things she saw.

So, naturally, Bridget always ran into the people she was trying to stray away from the most, or at the very least people she should be staying away from.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, falling to the ground as she crashed into a person, dragging that person down with her. Her eyes opened wide, reality once again crashing down on her as she found herself tangled up with Sam, the sixth year who had a crush on Harry.

Bridget opened her mouth to apologize, a well recited rant that lasted far too long for anybody's liking, when somebody beat her to it, a towering figure over the both of them.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, holding a hand out. Bridget opened her mouth once more to respond, but Sam took Harry's hand instead, a silly grin appearing on her face.

"I'm fine," she assured him shyly and Harry grinned, nodding.

"Harry!" Hermione called from the other end of the corridor, a worried expression on her face. Harry nodded at her beckoning, turning to face Sam for a moment more.

"I'll be right back. Hermione's going to throw a fit if I'm not over there soon," he laughed and then Bridget's utter horror kissed the girl right on the lips before jogging to speak with Hermione.

Bridget had to struggle to keep her jaw from dropping; it seemed the only appropriate place for it would be on the floor. Her eyes were wide, staring at Sam as the reality of what had just happened came crashing down on her.

"You and Harry?" she blurted, her voice high and squeaky.

"Yeah," Sam cooed, staring off in his direction. "He's great."

"Sure," Bridget coughed, bringing her hand to her mouth. She didn't trust herself to speak anymore, didn't trust herself to be around Sam anymore, much less Harry.

"You sound doubtful!" Sam exclaimed, looking at Bridget is disbelief.

"I'd just be careful with Harry," she said, her eyes darkening. "He doesn't really have a lot of concern for other peoples' feelings, too wrapped up in his own problems, I guess. That's to say he's quite the heartbreaker."

"Thanks for the warning," Sam said, though her voice did not sound thankful in the least. Bridget grinned sarcastically before sauntering off to find Draco, perhaps, as long as she didn't have to hang around Harry and his _girlfriend. _

"The nerve," she muttered, shaking her head. Something in her heart ached as she said this, a frown appearing on her face. How could he do this to her?

Whether or not he fancied her taken out of the equation, they had still kissed and she'd hoped he'd be polite enough to discuss that with her before finding a girlfriend. Bridget hadn't even expected Sam in the picture, hadn't dreamed something like this could ever happen.

But who was she kidding? She held no claim on Harry and though she'd kissed him she'd had a boyfriend at the time. She was an idiot if she expected him to wait around for her while she felt with Seth, especially over a kiss that meant next to nothing anyway. Besides, she didn't even want Harry like that.

"Sorry you had to find out like that," Hermione moaned, having left Harry behind with Sam and hurried to catch of with Bridget, who was fuming silently.

"Well, what better way than a collision?"

"Don't worry about. It won't last long-I don't think Harry even likes her that much," Hermione assured Bridget with a grin.

"I don't' care. It isn't as if I have this undying love for Harry or anything," Bridget snorted, shaking her head.

"Yeah, I know, but Ron told me about the kiss-"

"Where is Ron? "Bridget interrupted, slyly averting the topic of the kiss.

"Oh, he's got last minute homework and-"

"Bridget I need to speak with you," Harry stated, placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her away from Hermione. She glared.

"I was having a conversation, for your information."

"Why did you have to go be a bitch to my girlfriend?" Harry demanded, his eye gleaming with annoyance behind his glasses.

"I wasn't. I treated exactly like I would treated anybody else."

"That's not what she told me. She said you were making up lies about me."

"She started it. And they weren't lies."

"They were lies! I'm not some pimp, Bridget. Just because I got a girlfriend-"

"After we kissed."

"You kissed me!" Harry shouted.

"You kissed back!" she countered, stomping her foot.

"What was I supposed to do?"

"Push me off?" Bridget suggested.

"Look, we can just forget about this if go and apologize to Sam-"

"I will _not." _

"At least to me, then."

Bridget glowered at him, her blood boiling with fury. How dare he accuse her of being a liar! He was an infuriating git and Bridget felt repulsed to have ever even thought about kissing him.

"If you want apologies hold you breathe. I hope your lips taste of me forever."


	39. Waste My Time

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to JO. The song is by Alexz Johnson and played in the first season of _Instant Star_

**A/N:** Another short chapter, which sucks for those who have been waiting. I was on vacay and could not post.

* * *

_Waste my time  
Waste my time  
Not so sure that I'll be yours,  
But baby you could be mine_

It was safe to say that a day later Bridget and Harry were not getting along. They rarely spoke to each other and when they did it was snort and snippy comments. This, of course, did not stop them from sending vicious looks in each other's direction. Never before had so many glares been shared between two people, especially since those two people managed to be around each other _all the time._

Bridget had refused to let Harry's girlfriend get in the way of her friendship with Ron and Hermione, so like nothing had changed, she laughed and joked with them pleasantly. In fact, aside from Sam, things had turned back to normal again. Bridget had quickly gotten over her breakup, or at least decided to pretend she was over it. It was awful for her, really, to break up over a boy who'd gotten a girlfriend almost immediately after they'd kissed.

The only thing about Bridget's demeanor that did change was she got extremely more annoying than before. They were all eating lunch when Bridget would suddenly begin humming loudly, distracting anybody within five feet from having a decent conversation. This, also, happened to get on Sam's nerves, a fact she didn't hesitate to voice. Maybe Harry was encouraging her to do this.

"Are you having fun?" she questioned, breaking off the conversation she'd been having with Harry to turn and glare.

"Oh, yes."

"I think you're jealous, aren't you?" she assumed, her voice mocking.

"Oh, _yes."_

"Acceptance is the first step to recovery," Harry commented with a sarcastic smile, placing an arm around Sam. She, in turn, sneered before turning back to the conversation with Harry.

"Don't waste my time, Potter," Bridget grumbled. "If you and your girlfriend think that insulting me will do anything you're wrong. I mean, really, haven't we already been here before?" she stated before standing up. She was done with the company of Potter & Co. She didn't understand why after all of this she was the one who was made out to be the fool. She hadn't intended for all this tension to appear, but couldn't see why all the snide comments had to be directed at _her._

Sam watched Bridget Riddle leave, a scowl placed nicely on her face. She didn't intend to be so rude to the girl because hadn't it been he who introduced Harry to Sam? In truth, it was Sam that was jealous. It wasn't a secret anymore that Bridget and Harry, despite the arguments, shared a relationship that should make all girlfriends and boyfriends hesitant. She knew very well that Harry had come between Bridget and her own boyfriend, and that at one point they'd kissed.

Sometimes, when Harry put too much focus Bridget Sam felt as if she was wasting her time. It wasn't as if he was drooling over her or admiring her, but at times he couldn't stop talking about her, even if it was horrid things he was saying. The word obsession rang clearly.

She clung to Harry while she could though, letting her crush grow with hopes that it wouldn't end in heartbreak.

--

"Hey guys. Where's our favorite couple?" Bridget asked as Ron and Hermione came into her room, invading the mess it had now become.

"Snogging," Ron retorted, a look of disgust on his face.

"Ew."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "We figured that while you have been very loud lately at least you keep your lips to yourself."

"Sort of," Ron added, winking.

"Can we please not even allude to that?" Bridget winced, setting down the essay she was writing and sitting up.

"Sure, new topic," Hermione agreed.

"Can you believe it's almost Christmas? It feels like we haven't been in school at all," Ron wondered, a childish excitement lighting up in his eyes.

"I know! What are you guys doing?" Bridget squealed in excitement.

"Probably staying with Ron," Hermione informed her.

"Yeah, and you're welcome to join us."

"I wish," Bridget groaned. "I have to go home."

"Home?"

"It isn't much of a home, really, but it's where daddy wants me."

"You're spending Christmas with You-Know-Who?" Ron exclaimed.

"I have to. It sucks, I know."

"Are you going to be okay?" Hermione asked in concern.

"I hope so."

--

Harry let his mind drift in class, the words of his History of Magic teacher drifting in and out of his ears, but never really entering his brain. Lately, he'd been thinking about Sam almost twenty-four seven. It wasn't in the normal gushy way he should be, though. He kept wondering if asking her out had been a mistake, something he'd done on impulse as a result of Bridget kissing him.

More importantly, was Sam in danger of Voldemort hurting her now that she was with him? Even if he didn't like as much as she liked him Voldemort would take any in he could get. Part of him wished he'd stuck to his original plan of no girls. Whatever had happened to that, anyway? It seemed to have disappeared quickly.

Doubts continued to bother Harry, wonders of if he was wasting his time more potent than before. He didn't know how he ended up like this, in a fight with his friend, focusing more on snogging the girlfriend he only sometimes liked instead of his best friends, and most importantly, losing sight of the war, which hadn't plagued his mind for days now.

Something needed to be done.


	40. Heroes and Thieves

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Time had passed, the drama staying consistent and steady. Harry and Bridget were still not on speaking terms with her still being stubborn and him still with Sam. Hermione and Ron had tried to be even with the two, but Harry was so completely distracted by Sam that it was no use. Bridget was the only one who actually paid a decent amount of attention to their conversations without pausing for a quick snog, and that was saying something because Bridget was never one to stick to one topic in conversation. She preferred to dance around different topics, never staying in one place for too long, much like her life.

Christmas, however was approaching faster and faster, and while for some it may have been a good thing, filled with presents and cheer, for Bridget it was the looming possibility of loss. After their last meeting Voldemort would not be pleased with her and because of this Bridget knew she would pay.

Currently, they sat in the Gryffindor common room, all together for once even though it wasn't much of a together. Harry and Sam had taken to their favorite pastime of snogging. It was strange to think of Harry snogging anybody so in depth as he was, for he'd never been one for girls the way he was now. The whole ordeal was just messy and strange.

"Aren't there better things to do than kiss?" Bridget snorted, shaking her head.

"Well-"

"Never mind, Ron, I don't want to know," Bridget decided, scowling.

"Are you sure you aren't jealous? That could have been you," Ron said, wiggling his eyebrows. Bridget glanced at the couple once more before turning back to her friend and glaring.

"I think I'll be fine. I like my lips the way they are, thank you very much. I would prefer them not being sucked off."

"Oh wow," Hermione giggled. "Think of how many things we could compare Harry to now!"

"Boy who lived. Pfft. More like the octopus who lived," Bridget sniggered, waving her arms about in a very tentacle like way. Her eyebrow wiggled, eyes growing wide and then squinting as she made a very poor impression of an octopus.

"Is there a reason we all act like we're five?" Hermione questioned, eyeing Bridget carefully. She seemed a little afraid.

"Excuse me? I do things five year olds wouldn't even think about-"

"Please stop talking," Ron pleaded.

"Sorry, I've found myself getting extremely bored lately and you know how that goes," Bridget shrugged.

"Not until now," Hermione murmured.

"So did I tell you that I was able to convince Seth I was pregnant for a whole minute or so?" Bridget asked, averting the subject.

"No!" Hermione gasped. "You two didn't-"

"Oh, Hermione, please no," Ron cried, shutting his eyes and covering his ears.

"No!" Bridget exclaimed. "That's never happened, but I told him it was Potter's and he believed me."

"You did what?" Harry asked, breaking away from his girlfriend at the sound of his name.

"Shut up. You don't pay child support."

"For what kids?" Harry shrieked, throwing his arms up in the air.

"Our kids, Harry, remember them? But no, you're too busy snogging the whore," Bridget laughed. She hadn't meant to call Sam a whore, but it had just slipped out. Sometimes she had trouble controlling her tongue, especially she was arguing with insufferable gits like Harry Potter. Sam brought her hand to her mouth, a look of shock and faux hurt appearing on her face.

"You did _not_ just call me a whore," she seethed.

"If that's what you choose to believe."

"Sam, I'm sorry about her. Let's go somewhere else," Harry soothed, taking her hand and leading her out of the common room.

Bridget watched them go, crossing her arms stubbornly. Maybe she should have been nicer, but she could find nothing particularly nice to say or do with Harry Potter and his girlfriend. The two words just didn't fit together, made Bridget squirm, and brought her too this grumpy attitude she'd landed herself in.

"You didn't have to be like that," Hermione muttered, twiddling her thumbs nervously.

"I can't help it," Bridget defended, though she didn't sound very sorry at all.

"I don't know why you have such a problem with them. I mean, when they're talking they're quite nice," Hermione said, a pleading look on her face. Ron nodded, seeming distressed by the tears their friendships were suffering from. It was completely ridiculous that they had to bring themselves down to this pity level.

"To you, maybe."

"I thought you said you weren't jealous-"

"I'm not!" she cried, throwing her arms up in the air. "Harry can do whatever he wants and I won't be jealous because I don't' fancy him!"

"You mean a lot to Harry even when he doesn't admit it," Hermione informed Bridget. She just laughed icily, shaking her head. The blonde locks covered her face as she looked down, glaring at the carpet.

"How could Voldemort's daughter mean anything to Harry? Especially when he's so distracted by that girlfriend of his."

"Because you were his sister's best friend, Bridget," Hermione sighed. "And you became his friend and I know about that talks you guys have had, I know how even though they don't come often they bring you close and I don't think Harry really wants to give that up."

"So we share a terrifying past and our relations with a girl, but Harry will never like me for me. He will never see me as anything other than this crazy girl who's the spawn of his enemy and the bane of his existence," Bridget countered, running a hand through her hair. Couldn't they see the same things Bridget saw? Constantly she was reminded of how useless fighting for Harry was. There really wasn't much point in their friendship, especially when it consisted of fighting most of the time.

"That's not true and you know it. He trusts you and those final moments come, when everything goes down, who do you think will be standing by him? Certainly not Sam. But can you deny that you will be fighting with him?"

"I certainly won't be fighting against him," Bridget said dryly. Hermione sighed, looking at Ron for help. Ron stayed silent, though, his blue eyes pooling with an unrecognizable emotion.

"And that's what's important in the end."


	41. Feeling This

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

It was a peaceful morning in the Gryffindor tower, a morning that only came by every so often when the stars aligned just right and the run rose in perfect harmony with the horizon. The fire was smoldering, finally having died down to small sparks that crackled spontaneously, the wood having become ash.

Harry and Sam sat together, enjoying their last few days at Hogwarts before Christmas came and swept them away from each other and into a land of sweets and presents and family. They held hands, snuggling together for warmth, and shared the occasional kiss. It was perfection, bottled up and treasured in the little spaces between the two.

Harry never wanted to leave this place, wanted to freeze time and never have to feel anything but this. Sam was kind to him, listening to his concerns and rants, putting him with his strange mood changes, and making him truly loved.

It was a feeling, Harry knew, could not last.

They weren't in love, wouldn't last much longer because Harry wasn't a normal boy. He would put the girl's life in danger, driving her away slowly until she decided he wasn't worth it, wasn't returning her feelings the exact same way she thought he should. Harry wondered if he was the only one who felt this way, or if Sam knew it too.

Did Sam share the same anxious feeling that had settled inside Harry's stomach, making itself home for as long as they stayed together? Did she realize that the little fling was coming to an end soon, and if they didn't end it fate would end it by force? Did she anticipate the disaster that dared to peak around the corner, flickering about and showing his face in only the quietest of moments? Voldemort was planning, something was going to happen, normal would become lost among them…

"But Ron! We belong together!" a loud voice called from the corridor just outside the common room. Ron, Harry's best mate, had opened the door and stepped inside, a frantic look on his face as he ran from the girl Harry knew would follow inevitably after.

"I'm sorry, Bridget, I just don't feel that way about you. I have a girlfriend!" Ron cried. Bridget appeared then, smirking proudly. Laughter shined in her eyes, a beauty that could not be replaced by diamonds or pearls. Harry briefly wondered, as he stared at them, why Bridget and Ron were up so early and outside the common room, for that matter.

"Like a sailor and his ship we belong together, Ron," Bridget sighed, placing a hand over her heart in faux desperation. Ron glared, his arms crossed unhappily across his chest.

"Hermione is not going to like this. I swear, if you piss her off with your silly little implications-"

"Relax," Bridget interrupted, waving him off. "By the way, big words you're using there."

"Excuse me?" Ron demanded.

"Just saying I didn't know your vocabulary extended so far!" she teased, her smile broadening. Harry sighed, shaking his head in silent laughter. He'd missed Bridget's light banter, though he wasn't as willing to admit it. She had a way of making one forget about their problems though, even if it was with a rude joke or annoying song bringing up the problem of herself.

He'd almost forgotten that he liked being around her, having been too distracted by his own pride and obligations to Sam.

"Hey, let's get out of here. It doesn't look like they're going to be quiet anytime soon," Sam giggled in Harry's ear, her warm breathe sending shivers down his spine. Harry nodded, taking Sam's hand and leading her out for a nice walk about the castle, Bridget and Ron's voices fading in the distance.

"What about the closet?"

"She's crazy, I'm sorry," Harry said, snickering.

"I know," Sam sighed. "Just crazy enough, though."

"What do you mean?" Harry questioned, befuddled.

"I mean, she's loud and annoying and sometimes a bitch-at least to me, but you don't seem to mind."

"What? Are you kidding? We're in a fight!" Harry exclaimed in horror. He was shocked at the direction their conversation was going, wondering how it had happened.

"But I saw you laughing and I saw the look in your eyes and it wasn't anything I could compete with."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked slowly, releasing his girlfriend's hand and turning to face her head on. She was looked down, shame appearing on her face.

"You and I both know this wasn't ever going to go anywhere. And I don't want to do it anymore, especially when it's her that you want."

"I don't like her like that! You have to believe me-" Harry fought, the he didn't know why. Hadn't he already decided he believed the truth in her words, expected this to happen?

"But you want your friendship, don't you? And you can't have it you have me," she trailed off, wringing her hands together, a tear slipping down her cheek. "She's jealous and I don't want Voldemort's daughter jealous of me, especially if it concerns 'The Boy Who Lived."

"She's not like that," Harry countered. "She's not going to kill you or anything."

"I know you believe that, but I won't take anymore chances. I won't do this to my heart anymore."

With that Sam left, a frown upon her face as she disappeared into the distance, leaving Harry in a numbed state of shock behind her.

--

"Damn, why is it that only the good die young?" Bridget complained. Hermione looked up from the book she was reading, eyeing Bridget in disbelief.

"You're black."

"That was racist, Hermione. If Dean ever hears-"

"No, I mean you're the black set. And black symbolized evil so technically-"

"Hermione," Ron snapped. "We get the point."

"It really isn't my fault I've already lost my queen after two moves."

"Yeah, that's happened to me quite a few times playing Ron," a voice said from behind and quiet fell upon the bickering three. Bridget ran a hand through her hair, not turning to face the body of Harry Potter. Ron, instead, spoke up.

"Where's Sam, mate?"

"We broke up," Harry confessed with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione soothed, seeming disappointed.

"It's alright. I knew it wouldn't last long and besides I missed you guys."

"Not as much as you'll miss the snogging in a couple days," Ron joked, slapping his friend on the back. Harry laughed, but his face did not stay joking for long.

"All of you," he added, looking pointedly at Bridget. He knew his friends would accept him back with open arms, understanding the pulls of having a girlfriend. Bridget, however, he was uncertain about.

"We missed you too," she murmured, moving a chess piece awkwardly. Ron snickered, taking out a knight.

"Even I saw that coming, Bridget. How bad at chess can you be?" Harry laughed, staring at the bored in amusement.

"Oh be quiet Harry, this is the third game I've watched her lose."

"Well, come on then," Harry started, sitting down beside Bridget and putting on his best concentrating face. "Maybe if we both play we can beat him together."

Bridget looked at him, a strange glow in her eyes as she watched him smiling down at her, an offering of friendship. She considered this slowly, glancing back at the chess board.

"Two _is_ better than one."


	42. Beauty in GoodBye

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling.

**A/N:** I think I liked this chapter when I wrote it, but now I'm not so sure. Things are about to get interesting, though!

* * *

Never before had a train ride been so short, for before Bridget was comfortable they had suddenly arrived at the station, bags in hand.

"Aren't you coming?" Harry asked, noticing the Bridget wasn't moving from her seat, but rather staring forward, an intense look on her face. She shook her head at his question, staring intensely at the seat in front of her, as if trying to burn a hole in it.

"I'm fine here, thanks."

"What are you trying to do?" Harry laughed.

"Making King's Cross another two hours away with my mind."

"And how's that going for you?"

"Like shit, really," Bridget sighed, crossing her arms. Still she didn't make any effort to get enough, instead preferring the safety of the train. Harry frowned, glancing towards where Ron waited for him at the other end of the train. He didn't want to keep Missus Weasley waiting, but he was sure Bridget wasn't going to move unless he forced her.

"I'll be right there," he called. Ron shrugged, disappearing from view as Harry turned back to his friend. "What's up?"

"I don't want to go," she mumbled, hugging her knees. Harry exhaled, sitting down next to her and placing an arm around her. It was uncomfortable at first, to be so close with each other, but Bridget was too distracted to even notice they were touching. She kept her eyes straight forward, making an effort not to stare out the window.

"You're just going back to the castle, right? It won't be that bad-"

"No," she countered and quite suddenly leaned her head into Harry's chest. "I'm going back to _him."_

Shock filled Harry's emotions as he realized what he'd truly missed while with Sam. Bridget had been able to manage seeing Voldemort before, but never for long periods of time. Plus, neither of them had ever felt this worried about the situation before. Harry ran his fingers through Bridget's hair before standing up and taking her hands.

"Nothing with happen," he promised.

"You think?" she questioned, standing along with him. Harry nodded, grabbing both their bags.

"Nothing can happen," he stated as if by just saying so it would become reality.

"Promise?"

"Of course. We've just gotten back to being friends again. You think I'm going to let that be ruined now."

Bridget laughed weakly, hitting him. Harry glared playfully because they both knew Bridget couldn't hurt him even if she wanted to.

"Git."

"You hit like a girl."

"You look like a girl," she teased, coming out from the train to see Snape waiting for her in the distance, a stern look on his face.

"I guess this is good-bye," Harry sighed.

"Tell Ron and Hermione Merry Christmas for me and that I'm sorry I couldn't come home with them."

"I'll miss you," Harry said. Bridget nodded in agreement. They stood there for a few moments, just looking at each other. A welcomed awkward tension surrounded them, their smiles fading as they prepared themselves for what the future held.

"Everything's going to be fine?"

Harry nodded once more, and then on impulse, embraced Bridget into the warmth of his arms. She clung to him desperately, not willing to let this life go. She'd never experienced anything like the friends and faces at Hogwarts and she never wanted it to end, never wanted to leave this spot of safety.

"Promise," Harry said, releasing her. She smiled one last time before turning away to join Snape where he was waiting, looking even more angry than before.

And as they disapperated Harry did not know he was breaking his promise just by letting them go.

--

"Ah, daughter!" Lord Voldemort cried, a strange look appearing on his face. Bridget scowled, turning around to face him. They were in a large mansion, some place totally different from where he had been last time.

"Ah, Voldemort!" she mimicked and immediately the awkward pleasant look disappeared from his red eyes as they returned to their normal state of glaring.

"How was your last days at Hogwarts?" he questioned, not fully being able to hide the struggle in his voice to keep things casual.

"Last days?" Bridget questioned, panic flooding through her. "You mean I'm not going back?"

"Would you like to?" Voldemort asked, his voice becoming mocking as he folded his hands together, a sly smile appearing on his face. Bridget shuddered, confusion by the strange facial features of her father. How could they be even remotely related, much less father and daughter?

"Y-Yes," she stuttered.

"Then you may go back," he promised with a wave of his hand.

"What?" Bridget asked, her voice cracking. It was unlike Voldemort to grant anybody's wishes so easily. Usually he took advantage of situations as these, asking something in return, the conditions piling higher than the actual wish in the first place.

"Hogwarts is a school and who am I to deny you your learning?"

Bridget stared at him blankly, struggling to replay the conversation in her head. Was he being serious? Had she heard him right?

"T-Thank you," she muttered.

"But you must follow my directions and stay here over the break," he added, holding up a finger. "That is the only thing I ask."

"Of course," she agreed, seeing no harm in following out the actions she was already intending to take. It wasn't like she could do anything else even if she did get out. She probably couldn't even reach the people she so desperately wanted to be with. Voldemort smiled once more, the expression looking strange on his pale snake-like face. Bridget nodded, turning around to face an awaiting house elf, ready to show her to her room.

"I hope you enjoy your stay here," Voldemort wished, calling after her. Bridget didn't respond, still confused by their conversation.

And her fate was sealed.


	43. Everybody's Fool

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

**A/N:** AND OH these next few chapters are exiting. In fact, everything gets pretty exiting from here on out. No more dabbling in relationships and whatnot. Everything sets itself in stone

* * *

Life in the Voldemort household passed slowly for Bridget, her time being wasted away by things like homework and cleaning she didn't have to do. There was nobody else around most of the time, which proved well when Bridget wanted to be alone, but she was also very lonely. She missed her friends and wondered secretly what they were doing. Where they having fun without her, or did they miss her just as much as she missed them?

Over the course of time she'd been there Bridget had made quite a mess of things. There was nobody to talk to so she occupied herself with fooling about in the kitchen, redecorating rooms, and snooping around the house in search from human life. She'd sit for hours on end some days, staring in the mirror and making faces. It was a very boring life and Bridget wondered if Voldemort had found some new way of torture by isolation.

Either way he'd promised she could go back to school, which was a week away. One more week of loneliness, seven days and she would be free, hopefully for good. That thought and that thought only kept her from driving herself insane.

"Daughter," Voldemort called, showing his face for the first time since they'd started their vacation. Christmas had come and gone without her noticing, for no presents had arrived, no decorations hung, no cheer and happy noises like a good Christmas should be. Maybe they'd all forgotten about her up until now.

"Yes?" she asked, standing up from where she lay on her bed, counting tiles on the ceiling.

"I know you've been a bit bored here and there is an errand I need to run. You will come with me," he stated this rather than asked her if she wanted to. To be honest, though, Bridget didn't care what the errand was as long as she got out of the damn house.

"Of course," she said, struggling to keep the excitement out of her voice. She wouldn't want to give him the wrong idea. Mostly, she was hoping to snag some Christmas presents for her friends. Even if they hadn't gotten anything for her the nice thing to do would be to get gifts. She'd give them to everybody when school started.

"We will go now," Voldemort said, nodding his head. "Come along, you will side apperate."

"Fine," Bridge agreed, linking arms with her father. Her skin prickled uncomfortably where they touched and she felt strange to be close to the man. How silly it was that she couldn't even touch her own father without freaking out.

"We are here," Voldemort stated after the familiar tug-at-navel movement of apperation. Bridget looked around, not recognizing any of the houses. She had no idea where she was or what she was doing here.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"An old servant's house, daughter," Voldemort told her, looking intently at a crevice between two of the houses.

"What is your business there?"

"A servant needs punishment," was his only reply. Bridget nodded, running a hand through her hair. She had to mentally prepare herself for what was to come, knowing that the tortures that would become said servant wouldn't be pretty. Perhaps coming with him had been a bad idea, especially if she was going to play a part in his games.

Bridget waited as he stood there, still considering. She glanced around the street, noticing the faint images of Death Eaters watching for their master. Voldemort had not come alone, but brought company to ensure his well being. Why was it that they were the only two visible?

"This looks like a muggle street. Why would a wizard live here?" Bridget asked, noticing how there was nothing particularly magical about any of the houses.

"Look closer, daughter."

Bridget gazed at the houses once more, examine each one down to the finest detail. Finally, with a breathe of fear, Bridget came to the conclusion.

"There's no twelve."

--

Harry Potter shot up in bed, his scar burning. In one swift moment he pulled on his glasses, glazing around the room in panic. His breathing was heavy, his mind in a frenzy as he pressed his cold fingers to the pain in his forehead. Something had happened, was happening, something bad.

_Voldemort was happy._

No, happy was the wrong word. Voldemort was more than happy, more complex than happy. He was ecstatic, but not in a good way. Whatever being left there was of the man was pleased. Something had changed, the tables had turned, and suddenly everything was going his way.

Harry shuddered.

--

They entered the house without much difficulty, Bridget hiding beneath the shoulders. Voldemort pointed his wand at something resembling a curtain and let the door shut behind him, making a large noise in the seemingly empty house.

Bridget looked around carefully, straining her ears for voices. She didn't know where they were or why she was here. It didn't look like anybody had lived here, or at least cleaned here, for decades now. It was dark and gloomy and anybody who _did_ choose to reside in such a household would have to be crazy. Even Dark Wizards liked their houses clean and dust free.

"Molly? Is that you?" a stranger's voice asked, coming down hidden stairs. Bridget's eyebrows knit together in concentration. Where had she heard that name before? The voice she was sure she didn't know, but the name…

"In the kitchen, Author!" a women called and that was when Bridget knew she'd heard of these people before. Had they been mentioned by Voldemort some time in the past? They didn't sound like Death Eaters, but rather like a normal family. What were they doing in this dingy old house, though?

The man, whoever he was, was coming closer, crossing the hallway in which she stood. Could he expect what was waiting for him here, the punishment Bridget knew nothing about?

As the man came into view Bridget sized him up, noticing he was balding considerably, but what little hair was left was a bright fiery red, almost like…Ron's.

Bridget's hand flew to her mouth, a gasp escaping her lips and drawing the attention of Author, who Bridget now knew to Ron's father, her best friend's father. Her mind was spinning, her body frozen similar to the state of the man who stared in shock at the sly smile on Lord Voldemort's face.

"Molly! Get the order, all of them-it's it's," Author stammered.

"What are we doing here?" Bridget demanded, bile rising in the back of her throat. She was going to throw up, going to faint, going to something. She had to disappear, be anywhere but here, get away from the disaster that was brewing.

"I told you daughter, a servant of mine needs punishment."

"There are no servants of yours here!" Author cried. Time seemed to freeze then, for Bridget, as she watched various Order members appear from secret places in the house, the door behind them, anyway they could possibly get in.

Voldemort's arm reached out and he placed it around Bridget, turning her shoulders to ice and her head to mush. Chaos was breaking out, but Bridget couldn't do anything, couldn't breath or speak or run.

"That is where you are wrong," Voldemort said, a note of glee in his voice as he stared pointedly at Bridget. She yelped, a noise that was desperate and loud but didn't make sense to anybody, wouldn't help her now as she gazed at the shocked faces before her.

There was one, though, that stood out above all the rest.

Harry Potter stood, face a mixture of shock and anger as he saw what he should have known all long: Bridget Riddle was a traitor.

--

The fight had broken out, the Death Eaters appearing just as quickly as the Order members had. Voldemort had secluded himself from the main battles, only fighting off those who dared attack him. He did not kill, though, did not bother with petty things such as pain. It appeared that he had bigger plans than the ambush attack for he didn't even both with Harry, but rather let him be distracted by as many Death Eaters as could be spared.

Bridget too fought, though against her father. She couldn't figure out how this had happened, but if she could defeat even one of her father's followers than something good would come out of this.

"You!" she shrieked, pointing her wand at a Death Eater she knew all too well. "I thought you left us!"

"Oh no," Ginger Mellow laughed. "I was a spy for the our side. I'm the one who told master where the headquarters where. It took much work, but-"

Fury burned within Bridget stronger than anything she'd ever felt before. Nothing mattered but hurting this women, this women who assisted in the ruining of everything.

"Belanja!" she shrieked, but just as the spell was released from her wand Voldemort threw himself at her, directing the spell away from Ginger and onto Remus Lupin.

He was the first and the last of the night to become seriously injured, without hope of 100 recovery.

And it was all Bridget's fault.

"Oh no," she whispered as suddenly everything stopped, the Death Eaters retreating suddenly and completely.

"You are a liar, Bridget Riddle," one voice rang out above all the others. "I thought I could trust you, but you had us all fooled," Harry Potter accused, raising his wand to the girl.

"No, you are wrong," Bridget countered, realizing exactly the purpose of the attack. She was the servant to be punished and Voldemort had done so most severely, causing a hate to brew in the friends she'd treasured so close to her heart for a very short amount of time.

He'd left her with nothing left but him, the whole point of the exercise. He'd ruined her life, her hopes, any chance of her happiness. And because she was going back to school she'd have to live with this mistake she made, in leaving the house in the first place.

She could go to Azkaban for this, Bridget realized with a jolt of shock.

"I'm everybody's fool," she hissed, anger swelling in her eyes, but Voldemort had already lifted her up by the scruff of her neck, like a dog, and suddenly they were gone.

And there was no going back.


	44. How a Heart Breaks

**Disclaimer:** The Potterverse belongs to Rowling. Also, the lyrics in this song are by Rob Thomas "This is How a Heart Breaks" Credit is placed where it is due.

**A/N:** Pivitol moment in the story, I think, that somehow ended up in a songfic chapter. shrugs Heaven knows how.

* * *

Bridget stormed into her room, nose flaring and eyes alit with emotion. She was beyond angry by now, beyond feeling anything other than complete and utter _fury._ Her mind was reeling with questions and ideas, ranging from what would become to her after the disaster at Grimauld Place, to what would be the best plan of destruction for her father. How could he do this? Why would he even dare to approach such delicate territory?

"You had _no_ right!" she shouted, turning on her heel to face her father, who had followed her into the room. She glared ferociously, stomping her foot and throwing the contents of a table onto the floor in on swift movement. "How could you do something like that?"

"It had to be done," Voldemort responded calmly. How dare he be so deadpan in a time like this?

"They're all going to hate me. _Harry_ hates me," she hissed, the memory of Harry's livid face in her brain, his eyes glowering daggers into her heart, her soul. He, of them all, would be the most angry with her, the most hateful, and perhaps the most important.

"And why do you care so much if Potter dislikes you?" Voldemort questioned. He too was becoming annoyed with his daughter, feeling she was being overdramatic and making a fuss over things that weren't important.

Bridget hardened her glare and turned around, not gracing that question with an answer. Instead she began pacing back and forth, trying to think up an answer that would take all of this away, all these assumptions and false reasoning. There had to be _something _she could say or do that would fix this!

"Why do you care?" Voldemort demanded again, not willing to let the matter go so easily. Bridget sighed, rolling her eyes at his persistence and mumbled something incoherent as she continued to pace, continued to think, continued to plan. Nothing was coming to mind, though, and if only he'd leave her alone for just a few minutes…

"Why do you care that Potter hates you?" Voldemort repeated, his voice rising, tone reaching higher pitches, anger flooding through his words. Bridget gritted her teeth, spinning on her heal and turning around to face him. Her hair spun widely, a mind on top of her head as she met his eyes with a glare of her own, the words pouring out without the control of her mind, without the ability to stop them or take them back.

"Because I love him!"

_Don't you wanna go for a ride  
Just keep your hands inside  
And make the most out of life  
Now don't you take it for granted_

Time seemed to slow then, all emotion leaving Lord Voldemort's face. He stood expressionless, taking a long time to comprehend the words that had come out of his daughter's lips, the idea that anybody could love Harry bloody Potter becoming lost on him.

"I didn't mean that," Bridget amended, her voice calm now as she forced her face to mirror her fathers, wishing for the first time in a while that she could be able to deport emotion just as easily as he could. However, there was no hiding the fear that lay so blatantly in her eyes, or the truth that had rang out with every word she had spoken.

_Life is like a mean machine  
It made a mess out of me  
It left me caught between  
Like an angry dream I was stranded  
I was stranded_

"Oh, but I think you did," the Dark Lord finally spoke, his voice icy and biting, sending shivers of worry through Bridget's veins, her whole body racking with emotion. Her brain was going too fast for her body to catch up, a million words and options running through it but all she could do is stand still and stare, her ears shutting off and her eyes glazing over.

A spell was muttered by her father, and suddenly time seemed to catch up with her as she went flying into a desk, hitting it with such force that a leg wobbled before breaking off. There Bridget lay on the floor, taking the least time as possible to reassemble herself.

_And I'm steady but I'm starting to shake  
And I don't know how much more I can take_

Slowly, gripping the now broken desk, Bridget stood and stared at her father, mouth open slightly as she decided on the words she wanted to speak to him next. There wasn't anything left to say, though, was there? She'd said all that he needed to know, all that would end whatever strange balance they had created. There wasn't taking back anything like love, especially when it involved Harry Potter. Now all there was left to do was live with the consequences.

Of course, Bridget wasn't very talented in that area. Reality and her didn't mix well and she proffered to avoid all confrontations, all chances where the truth would be so obviously laid out before her. Her body ached to move, was tired of being thrown around like a rag doll and suddenly Bridget's mind was on auto drive.

So swiftly that nobody was expecting it Bridget threw her hands out, pressing them against Voldemort's torso before pushing it will all the force she had left in her.

She didn't wait to see whether he stumbled or not, as long as he was out of the way before she broke into a run.

_Well, this is it now, everybody get down  
This is all I can take  
This is how a heart breaks  
You take a hit now  
You feel it break down  
Make you stay wide awake  
This is how a heart breaks_

She was out of the house now, running faster than she ever had before and heading towards an unknown destination. All she knew what that she had to get away, had to go somewhere. She didn't think of appertating, couldn't concentrate long enough to do it, didn't want to anyway. Adrenalin ran through her veins as she continued to let her body think for her, doing the only thing he knew how to do in times like these.

Running was her only escape at this moment, her only way out of the trouble that so desperately sought her.

She didn't realize how close she'd been the a muggle city, and for a moment she wondered why Voldemort would choose a headquarters so close to civilization. Either way she'd reached a small village just outside the forest that surrounded the house in which she'd previously resided.

Bridget couldn't help herself as she glared at him, staring at her in wonder as she shot by. They were muggles, not having to worry about Lord Voldemort or his followers. They knew nothing of what she, as the daughter of the Dark Lord, was put through everyday. The knew nothing but simplicity and happiness.

_Don't you wanna go for a ride now to the other side  
Feel so good you could cry  
Now won't you do what I told you_

It was getting hard now, even for her. She couldn't run forever of course, but chancing a look behind her she saw Death Eaters following her, chasing after her. More muggles were staring, for they'd inhabited their territory now, causing a ruckus among those who lived in ignorance.

They were gaining on her though and Bridget knew she'd have to stop and fight them, eventually. Her body would tire out for she couldn't push it like this forever, couldn't run from her problems for very much longer. She'd have to face her fears and do something to help herself instead of living in a middle ground, somewhere between scared and insane.

_I remember when you used to be shy  
And once we were so fine, you and I  
Now why you gotta make it so hard on me  
Hey, it's hard on me_

As Bridget turned to face forward she came upon the end she'd feared. There were no where left to run, for without knowing it she'd thrown herself into an alley, a dead end. The Eaters were closing in on her, crazy looks in their eyes and Bridget realized for the first time that her father was among them.

How flattering. She was important enough for her father to chase after her in fury. Had she not been in so much peril at the time, she might have found the thought of Lord Voldemort running _anywhere_, funny, but there was really nothing to laugh about here.

She'd sealed her fate. Punishment would come now.

_And I'm sorry but it's not a mistake  
And I'm running but you're getting away_

Bridget's mind, once again acting of its own accord, flickered back the life she'd made for herself at Hogwarts. She hadn't spent very long there, but all the same she'd made it her home, creating friends and familiar faces in unusual places. The thought of never seeing the castle again, never having what she had again tore her heart to pieces.

Even if they all hated her now, even if it would never be the same as it was before she didn't care. If she didn't go back she wouldn't be able to take it, wouldn't be able to face another day with the same energy she did. She needed to see Harry once more, even if it was just to ensure he profound hate for her and everything she stood for.

Because Bridget loved him. Thinking about it, however quickly it was, she realized that there was no lie in the statement. Bridget loved Harry even when they were arguing, even when he was a git, even when she had a boyfriend. And Bridget wasn't sure if something like that could ever change and why should it when she'd already ruined her life anyway?

Voldemort's wand was brandished, a miniscule warning of the dangers that were to come.

"Daughter," he warned.

Insanity or bravery let loose on Bridget as she gave in, gave up, finally accepted she was out of luck. She'd already thrown herself to the dogs, why not make it official? There wasn't any harm in confirming what they all already knew, especially if it would piss her father off.

"It's true," she said calmly, finding that she could control the shakiness in her voice with ease. "I, Bridget Riddle, daughter of the _great_ Lord Voldemort, an in love with Harry Potter."

_Well this is it now, everybody get down  
This is all I can take  
This is how a heart breaks  
You take a hit now  
You feel it break down  
Make you stay wide awake  
This is how a heart breaks_

It seemed that, once again, nobody had been expecting this. The shock hindered their progression. It did not hinder the glare in Lord Voldemort's face, however. It stopped him from cursing her on the spot, but that would not last longer. He took the time then, and only then, to force the full intensity of his glower upon Bridget, tearing her apart at the seams.

_You're not the best thing that I knew  
Never was  
Never cared too much for all this hanging around  
It's just the same thing all the time  
Never get what I want  
Never get too close to the end of a line  
You're just the same thing that I knew_

And for the first time in Bridget's life she was completely terrified of her father. Sure, she'd always been a bit afraid of him before, but it had never been like this. She had never feared for her life so intensely, never thought that he'd actually hurt her enough to cause permanent damage, or even kill her. Would he kill his own daughter? After this, Bridget was not sure.

_Hell this is it now, everybody get down  
This is all I can take  
This is how a heart breaks  
You take a hit now  
You feel it break down  
Make you stay wide awake  
This is how a heart breaks_

After this it didn't matter, though, because she promised she'd never come back to him again, even if he did his worst. She was no longer his daughter in both of their eyes, no longer anything more than the scum on his shoes.

She wasn't going to take the chance of what he could do to her, wasn't going to stick around for the dirty details.

And with that Bridget Riddle apperated to the only place she could think to go to, the only place she had left, the only place with the only person who might still believe in her.

With a thoroughly broken heart, loss of hope, and without the promise of a tomorrow worth living, Bridget landed on the grounds just along the outskirts of Hogwarts.


	45. Going Nowhere Fast

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling.

* * *

Lord Voldemort was furious. He wanted to scream, to curse, to kill. How was it possible that just a few hours ago he'd felt so accomplished? He'd succeeded in the plan to rid Bridget of her horrid company, and no damage had come to him or any of his party. Even better, one of the other side had been hurt. Things were turning up.

There were, turning up, but now they were not. How could she love him? Bridget may not have liked her father very much, but couldn't she find some loyalty? How was it possible that could have loved his enemy? Voldemort tried to convince himself she was lying, trying to spite him, but there was no denying the truth any longer. He had lost her.

--

Harry Potter was furious. He wanted to scream, to hit something, to yell at her. Not only had the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix been found out, but in the process he'd figured out the truth of Bridget. She was a traitor, a liar, scum. Amongst all the havoc that had gone on after the attack-making sure Lupin was okay, finding safety, tracking the traitor who'd sold out their position-Harry finally found himself the time to ponder upon that day's events.

How could he have ever trusted Voldemort's daughter? Who was stupid enough to do that? What had he been thinking? She was a liar from the start and had probably been planning the attack for some time now. He'd told her things, things he'd never imagined sharing in the first place. He'd trusted her and believed in her. They had been friends, so much that Harry could scarcely remember the ways things were before they'd gotten close with each other.

Harry could remember on the train, the way he'd felt as he hugged her good-bye. He'd _hugged_ her. Harry felt sick with himself, as if he should shower after touching her, though he'd showered many times since that day. He'd been so honest with her, thought she was being honest with him…She'd sounded to genuinely scared about going home to her father. How was it possible that it had all been a façade? Harry thought he could tell when somebody was lying and she'd seemed the most honest she could be.

The worst part about the whole even was that they _were_ friends. She'd betrayed her own friends, just like Wormtail. The only difference was that his parents weren't alive to feel this confusion as he was. They'd never been alive to contemplate over the betrayal the way Harry did, the way he always would from now on.

He was hurt.

He wanted to hate Bridget Riddle with every fiber of his being, and while he was coming close there was a part of him that would miss her now that she was gone. He couldn't imagine life without her joking and laughing with him, without her lovely addition to the conversations he'd usually just have with Ron and Hermione.

How could somebody who had been so happy, so crazy, have become part of something so dark? Her personality just didn't fit the type, but then again, could that have been a lie too?

Harry was furious with himself for believing her in the first place, full of hate for the girl he now knew she was, but at the same time filled with sorrow over the girl he'd thought she'd been. He would miss the Bridget he knew, the one he'd grown to love as one of his closet friends. It was hard, now that he was alone, to force himself into the mindset that that girl was gone.

Bridget Riddle, the real Bridget Riddle, was a monster. She was a liar and a fake, intent on his destruction and Harry would never _ever_ trust her again. If they spoke it would only be for Harry to tell her this, that he hated her, and to promise her that he'd gain his revenge. Otherwise, it would be like she never existed.

Harry Potter was going to kill Lord Voldemort anyway; what was another addition to the list?

--

Ron Weasley was, perhaps, the only one in the whole house who wasn't furious. He was, in fact, confused. The events of Bridget's betrayal didn't make sense. The pieces didn't add up and Ron wasn't as willing to just believe she had done this to them as easily as his friends had. Because the truth was, aside from the attack, she'd given nobody any reason to believe what side she was on.

Sure, Bridget had gone to "visit" her father once or twice, but she'd never kept it hidden, always sharing with them after exactly what had happened and how she hated it. And sure, she might have been lying, but wouldn't it be easier to just not tell them at all rather than to make up this whole story?

There were a million more reasons than to believe in her innocence than in her being guilty.

First, it was a face that Lillian, Harry's own sister had been her friend. For that matter, it certainly made more sense that Bridget was innocent rather than Lillian to have lied. Lillian doing anything of the sort was complete blasphemy; Ron couldn't imagine the girl ever even thinking about doing something of that nature. The two just didn't fit together.

Second, Bridget had never, at school, done anything to hint she was a Death Eater. She bore no mark and wasn't ashamed to wave around her bare wrists as if to prove how unlike her father she was. And she _was_ unlike her father. Her personality was nothing like You-Know-Who's, or a Death Eater's for that matter. Never before had there been a Death Eater that woke up the castle in the middle of the night with dancing chocolate. There was no way somebody so insane could be dark, could be bad at all.

Third, Ron trusted her. He didn't care what anybody else said, but he had trusted her from the beginning. And even though he wouldn't show it he trusted her still. Even though they could no longer be friends Ron could never fully convince himself to believe she was on the other side. Bridget made it clear to anybody who would listen that she was nothing like her father and never intended to be like him. None of that could have been a lie because it just wasn't possible.

Bridget was Ron's friend and she deserved the benefit of the doubt. Inwardly, he'd give it to her. Outwardly, they'd just have to wait and see.

Finally, the attack did not make sense either. He'd come, they'd got in, they'd fought, but other than Lupin nobody was hurt. You-Know-Who had made no attempts to hurt Harry and after they'd left everything seemed to be fine. In fact, everybody seemed to clear out as soon as somebody _did_ become seriously injured. And Lupin would recover. He'd be okay, all the healers had agreed on that. No permanent damage had taken place, minus the breaking of friendships.

Also, Ron was sure Bridget's wand hadn't been aimed at Lupin. Admittedly, he was a bit too distracted to be focusing on her, but she'd been heading towards Ginger, not Lupin, who was involved in another duel. What would have made her randomly attack the man? It wasn't like she hadn't met him before, either. He'd came when she'd showed them The Secret and they'd shared no hostility between each other.

There had to be something else going on underneath the surface, something that would prove the innocence of Bridget Riddle.

Ron was sure of it.

--

Bridget Riddle was alone. It was cold outside, snowing, and she was alone. Not the mention how heartbroken and tired she was. Honestly, she didn't think she could walk another step. She had to though, if she wanted to reach Dumbledore and ensure some sort of temporary safety. A haven, perhaps, would lie in the near empty castle.

With that thought in mind Bridget trudged forward

"You!" an angry voice sounded from Bridget's right as she made her way onto the grounds. "What are ye' doing here? I should be taking ye' to the headmaster, I should!"

Bridget turned in shock to face Hagrid, red with anger, as he stalked over to her, prepared for attack. Apparently news traveled fast and it was known all throughout the land of Bridget's betrayal and attack on the Order.

"Hagrid-"

"The nerve of ye' to even show yer' face here," he mumbled and then with a sudden force picked her up my the scruff of her neck and started dragging her towards the castle.

"What are you doing? Hey! Put me down!" she protested, kicking him in the shins. Hagrid didn't even wince, keeping his stiff posture and sturdy glare in tact.

"I'm taking yer' to Dumbledore, I am. He'll know what to do with yer'!"

Bridget sighed, relaxing. It was a bit uncomfortable to be dragged along like this, but there was no escaping the clutches of the half giant. Besides, it wasn't like he was taking her somewhere she wasn't already going anyway.

As they arrived at the headmaster's office Hagrid mumbled the password, setting Bridget on the ground and allowing her to walk the rest of the way up the stairs. He placed his umbrella firmly on her back, though, showing her there would be no getting out of this.

"Ah, Hagrid. How are you doing this evening?"

"Sir, I found her on the grounds. Don't know what she was doing, but after-"

"Of course, Hagrid," Dumbledore interrupted, glancing briefly down at Bridget for a moment. His eyes had lost their twinkle, a solemn look on his wrinkled face. Bridget hung her head in shame. "If you don't mind, I would like a moment alone with Ms. Riddle to discuss this morning's events."

"Yes sir. I'll just get back to work, then," Hagrid said and suddenly he was gone, leaving Bridget alone with Albus Dumbledore.

"Sir-"

Dumbledore held is hand up, though, signifying his wish for her silence and Bridget closed her mouth, staring at him in anxiousness. He smiled politely then, taking a seat at his desk and folding his hands as he returned her gaze. He didn't appear to be angry, but then again it was a rare occasion when Dumbledore appeared to be anything more than calm and collected.

"I do not believe that the attack was your fault, Ms. Riddle, nor do I believe you ever intended to hurt anybody."

"You don't?" she questioned, surprised.

"You have told me time and time again that you do not support Voldemort and so I have allowed you to stay in this school as I would any other student. You have also, in fact, visited him over the year as well, and I have chosen to view this act as a child visiting his or her father, rather than a Death Eater his or her master."

"I didn't know where we were going when I left with him," Bridget mumbled. "He told me we were visiting an old servant's house."

Dumbledore laughed then, the twinkle returning in his eye. Bridget gave him an incredulous look. She couldn't find anything about that funny.

"He did not lie. The Black house, where the attack took place, is the home of many a follower of Lord Voldemort. It so happens that the soul owner, Sirius Black, chose to follow his own path and join the order. After his death he left the house to Mr. Potter and he has so graciously offered it up for headquarters."

"I'm sorry," Bridget sighed, closing her eyes. "I should have known nothing good would come out of this, especially now. I only followed him because I hadn't been out of the house-I was bored. I had not realized that his intentions were not to punish a Black, but me."

"I believe that," Dumbledore said. "I had a theory that he would do something like this, especially after hearing how close you've grown with Mr. Potter. It is only natural that Voldemort would retaliate."

At Harry's name Bridget winced, not being able to hide the chagrin she felt when she thought of him. He had to hate her now and yet she'd risked her life because of the love she felt for him, a love that was strange now that she was out of the pressing situation. It didn't seem to fit in her body, couldn't find its place and instead floated around, intensifying and random intervals and causing a never ending churn in Bridget's stomach.

"I am assuming that something else happened, Ms. Riddle, and I am anxious to know what it was," Dumbledore told her, having not missed the wince and uncomfortable expression that now lingered on Bridget's face. She sighed, finding no harm in telling this man, he last hope, the truth.

"I have nowhere else to go, sir. Everybody hates me in the Order, now. They all believe I'm a traitor and nothing anybody can say is going to change that. And I can't go back to Voldemort."

"Because you don't want to?"

"That, and because I'm ruined things there too," she paused, waiting for Dumbledore to speak but he did not and so she continued. "I told Voldemort I was in love with Harry. After that I can't go back. Can't go anywhere, he'll kill me."

Surprise was evident on the headmaster's face, his eyes widening just a bit as she looked up the student who had nobody. Her eyes were shining with emotions and fear, troubles brewing inside of her and the headmaster felt pity upon the girl.

"Was this the truth?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well," Dumbledore exhaled, standing. "Remus Lupin will recover from curse in due time. No permanent damage has been done. I do not believe you have lied to me today and I do not see why you can not stay here for the rest of break before finishing out your year at Hogwarts-"

"Oh, thank you!"

"However," Dumbledore interjected, holding up a single finger. "The ministry will hear about your attack and they use it for the final evidence, they piece they've been waiting for since you become a public piece of information. If you stay here there is a large possibility you will be sent to Azkaban, and without a trial. They will simply come and take you away."

Bridget opened her mouth, suddenly feeling dry and clammy. The thought scared her, but she didn't have any other choices. Staying in school was her best shot and so she was just going to have to take her chances, however small they may be.

"I understand."

"With that in mind you may return to your room."

"Thank, you sir," Bridget said, turning to leave. Her heart was racing and as Bridget walked to her room she wished it would stop. She was tired and wanted to sleep, to forget about today, pretend it never happened, and return to a land that was all her own.

She fell asleep in her clothes that night, her heart aching, nightmares clouding her senses.


	46. Everything's Fine

**Disclaimer:** The Potterverse belongs to Rowling. The song is titled "Hero" and is sung by Nickleback, off the Spiderman 2 soundtrack.

**A/N: **The song is totally one of the theme songs for this story. I'm in love with it. XD

* * *

_And they say  
That a hero could save us  
I'm not gonna stand here and wait  
I'll hold on to the wings of the eagles  
Watch as we all fly away_

Fresh snow fell lightly to the ground with the new year, waking Bridget up to a world of white. Wind and flakes blew in through her window, which she'd left open last night in an attempt to let the cold keep her awake until twelve. It didn't work, however, only numbing her body like morphine.

She'd started at the sky four hours that night, letting her mind blank for a few hours. She refused to let herself think as January first came, refused to let herself be sad at a time that was supposed to be happy. If she were a normal teenager she'd be at her friend's house, laughing and having fun as they entered the new year with good intentions and hopefully beginnings.

Bridget couldn't feel any of this, though, for nothing about her life screamed new beginning. If anything, it signified the end.

After she left him, Voldemort had intensified his attacks, making them more often and more fierce. His anger would drive him to the ends of the earth, killing until all unworthy were dead. The list of names went on longer than those who were blessed with being on his good side.

The few that had decided to stay at Hogwarts for the break had soon found out about Bridget's attack and had been avoiding her at all cost, if not sneering and glaring in her direction. Hate radiated from all angles, surrounding Bridget in its vicious claws. It was tearing her to shreds to realize there was no hope for her left, but it was even worse to think that this was not the worst of it.

That would come later, when the rest of the students returned.

At breakfast that New Year's morning, the new became officially public.

_Bridget Riddle, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's notorious daughter, has been caught in action. She led an attack on the home in which Harry Potter and his friends were staying, severely injuring an unnamed wizard. The punishment for this act is unknown as of late, but the ministry is placing it at the top of their to do list to lock Riddle up in Azkaban, where she will no longer be able to hurt and destroy, or even think about following in her father's footsteps…_

"What a bunch of rubbish," Bridget muttered, throwing the paper away. She didn't need this. She didn't need the whole world gossiping about her, especially when all they could say was lies. If given the chance Bridget would set them straight, declaring the truth as loudly as she could.

Nobody would listen, though, and so she did not try. Instead, she let herself sit and wallow in self pity, ignoring the way her stomach churned whenever she thought about Harry returning. He was be hateful and furious, a fate far worse than death.

She wished she'd never admitted that she loved him, not because it was a lie, or she didn't want Voldemort to know, but so that she may not know herself.

For it was true she hadn't known she loved him until she said it and maybe if she didn't know it would hurt less to watch him hate her. That, above all else, was something Bridget wasn't sure she could take. It wasn't like she could say anything back now, either. He was right in everything he would accuse her of, having no reason to believe she was honest and true.

If only she didn't love him.

_Someone told me  
Love would all save us  
But, how can that be  
Look what love gave us  
_

After breakfast Bridget went running, something she'd been spending most of her time doing. With running Bridget felt she could escape forever, get away from the demons that possessed her, get her mind off things she didn't want to think about. It tired her out, relieving her of the nightmares that haunted her dreams. Running was a release.

Running was also a disaster, for she always ended up crashing into somebody. This time it was a first year.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I can never seem to look where I'm going," she apologized, helping him gather his books. The first year only stared at her, mouth open in horror.

"Y-you're-" he stuttered, eyes wide with fear.

"It's not true," Bridget snapped. "Don't believe everything you read. I've done nothing wrong," she told him, her face turning stony. Was it true she hadn't done anything wrong? She'd thought, at first, that she was innocent, but was some of the blame to fall on her as well? Maybe she did deserve Azkaban. Maybe this was all her fault.

Bridget decided then, that if the little boy believed her she could carry on in her innocence, that fact alone driving her to keep going. However, if he ran away scared she'd turn herself in immediately, binding herself to the walls of Azkaban.

"Oh."

"It was a set. I didn't mean for anybody to get hurt," she insisted, handing him her books.

"So…you're innocent then?" he questioned. Bridget nodded. He seemed to consider this for a bit, biting his lip. He was cute, really, in a little kid sort of way. "Alright."

"You believe me?"

"Sure. I mean, everybody's afraid of you, but you don't seem that scary. Just tall."

Bridget laughed, a strange sound coming from her lips. She exhaled in relief, thankful that at least one person in the school believed her. Not all hope was lost, for this innocent little boy was by her side, not afraid.

"Thanks. How do you like Hogwarts so far?" she asked.

"Oh, it's great. My mum is so proud of me. She's a muggle, you know," he added, nodding vigorously. Bridget laughed again.

"What's your name?"

"William, but you can call me Will. That's what all my friends call me," he said enthusiastically. A bright smile was on his face; he was very exited to be talking to a seventh year.

"You can just call me Bridget. I don't have friends to give me nicknames anymore."

"Why?" Will asked.

"Because of what happened before. I haven't seen them yet, but I have a feeling they won't be very happy with me."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Aren't you friends with Harry Potter?" Will asked suddenly, knitting his eyebrows together.

"I was, at least," Bridget said, another tear ripping itself into her heart. Did he have to bring Harry up? She was forever thankful for the boy, but she couldn't stand to have her heart like this anymore.

"They say he's supposed to save us," Will mused, smiling distantly. "They say he's the hero that is going to kill You-Know-Who. He's the chosen one."

Bridget stared at him sadly, not bringing herself to respond. The hope that burned in him was strong, something Bridget admitted she no longer held anymore. She couldn't believe in heroes and saviors and chosen ones anymore. The ability to kill Lord Voldemort had been lost so long ago that Bridget doubted it was possible now. She'd thought it was, though Harry could, but…

"He is. And he will," she lied to the boy, not bringing herself to tell him the truth.

_Now that the world isn't ending  
It's love that I'm sending to you  
It isn't the love of a hero  
And that's why I fear it won't do  
_


	47. Give Me a Gun, I Break Your Heart

**Disclaimer:** The Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Returning to Hogwarts was strange for Harry, because suddenly everything seemed out of place. All throughout the train ride he'd heard whispers of his life, the latest gossip. They were all awaiting, having read the article about Bridget, to see what Harry would do when he saw her. While this fact annoyed Harry to no end, he confessed then when he did see her it would be something to gossip about.

Ron and Hermione didn't seem to be affected by this, and if they were they hadn't been showing it. They didn't speak much, instead preferring a comfortable silence. Other than that fact they carried on their day, holding hands and cuddling, like it was any other day.

Now they sat outside on the grounds, by the lake, with a few other Gryffindors discussing how they'd spent their Christmas break. Currently, Seamus was going off about the presents he'd received, having joined a boasting war with Ron. Hermione, in turn, had her arms crossed and was glaring at the two boys, annoyed with their immaturity.

That was when Harry saw her.

"You!" he shouted, standing. He found that with Bridget his body did a lot of things without his mind realizing it. He seemed to move and react to her in a strange way, not really thinking about the things he did before he did them. Perhaps she had put a strange curse on him, forcing him into a frenzied state whenever she was around.

Either way Harry couldn't control himself as he chased after her, for she had been running, surprised when she slowed down and faced him with doe like eyes of blue.

"Me?"

"I'm going to kill you for what you did, how you betrayed all us, lied-"

"Listen, Harry, you have to believe me. It was a trick-" she rambled, but Harry would have none of it. He wasn't going to settle for her excuses and lies anymore. He was going to say all that he had to say and then leave her alone, releasing his anger and then never gaining it back.

"Stop it! Lupin is in the hospital because of you!"

"No one was supposed to get hurt!" Bridget cried, pleading internally for Harry to have a sudden burst of trust and accept her for who she was.

"Oh, then you were just stopping by for a visit? Maybe have a cup of Christmas tea, discuss knitting patterns?"

"Look, I didn't know where we were going. He'd locked me up in the house and when offered a chance to get out a took it without thinking! I'm _sorry." _

"Oh, don't give me that," Harry seethed, and suddenly his wand was out, pressed against Bridget's throat.

"Give you what? The truth?"

"You are lying! Stop lying to me!"

"Harry," Ron interjected, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's not worth it, okay? Just leave her alone. Everybody's staring, mate."

Harry blinked, having not realized there was a world outside of Bridget. He'd been so caught up in the argument he hadn't noticed that a group of people, students and teachers alike, had grouped around them, staring in excitement and awe as they fought. This was enough for Harry, though. Having people around only fueled his anger and having already found a nice target to direct it he brushed off Ron and turned back to Bridget.

"Listen to Ron, Harry. I'm nothing to you. I've always been _nothing,"_ she laughed, a frantic edge appearing in her tone. The words rang of insanity, but she could only see truth in them. It was the truth coming out, finally, what they thought of her, how she meant so little to them, how either way it all over. Bridget didn't know if it was possible for her heart to break any worse, but it did anyway.

"That's not true," Harry hissed. "You were our friend. Of course that meant something, but now? You were the one that came and attacked us!"

"Then why are you still talking to me? I get it! You hate me!"

"Because I want you to know exactly where we stand, Bridget," Harry explained. His voice had lowered, but it was dangerous and solemn. There was no joke in the air. "You hurt Lupin, you attacked us, and if you got to Azkaban you will deserve every dementor you get thrown at you."

Bridget stared at him, her breathing rugged as she finally cracked. It wasn't worth fighting him anymore. There wasn't anything else she could say other than to give in. Living the Harry's hate was just going to have to become a part of her life now. Loving him aside, it wasn't worth it if he wouldn't even listen to her.

"Fine," she stated, glaring. "You got me. I'm an evil _monster_ and my goal from the start as been to kill you all! Happy? Because I'm sick of trying," she said, her voice ringing with a familiar tone of sarcasm. Harry opened his mouth, not quite knowing what to say at first. He wasn't happy. He was, in fact, angry and hurt. Some sort of pain was digging into his side, causing a constant piercing and tearing he couldn't rid himself of.

"No. Of course I'm not happy."

"Then what would make you happy, Harry? Because surely, if I can't kill you, I want to make you happy!" Bridget exclaimed.

"I'll only be happy when you're dead."

Bridget stumbled back, staring at him in hurt. So that was it. That was what he wanted from her, all he could ever want from her. Whatever friendship they'd attempted to build was long gone now, never returning, remaining in memory. Bridget loved a man who hated her, who wanted her dead. It was a fate worse than death, a life she wasn't sure if she wanted to live anymore.

"Fine," she said in a dangerously low voice. "If it'll make you happy." And with that she walked away swiftly, breaking into a run and speeding off into the distance, far away from any source of human interaction.

Nobody followed her, to shocked to do anything but stare. Ron and Hermione looked at their friend in horror, shocked that he could ever say something so horrible to anybody, cause Bridget to do something like _kill herself?_ She wouldn't really, though, would she?

"I didn't-" Harry stuttered, for even he was shocked at his behavior. It wasn't so much what he'd said, though, it was the way Bridget had reacted to them. It was the way she'd found so much offense in everything he'd said against, fought so hard for a friendship she should have known was lost a long time ago. It was the way Harry could hear something breaking, internally, as the conclusion was laid out in front of them.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione shrieked, the first to speak. "How _dare_ you say something that to her? Even for you, even for her, it was low!"

"Ms. Granger is right, Potter," Professor McGonagall said, appearing from the mist of the crowd. "Detention and thirty points from Gryffindor for what you've said to her. The punishment will increase if she is not in class by tomorrow morning."

"Should somebody go after her?" Ron asked in concern.

"I would say yes if it was possible to find her by now," McGonagall continued. "But I'm afraid that would be too hard of a task. Hopefully after she's calmed down she will return to school."

"But, Lupin-"

"And her punishment for that will come, Potter. By the look of things in a week's time she will be as good as dead."

"What?" Harry questioned.

"Harry," Hermione started, looking at him with earnest. "The ministry is still deciding on her punishment, but a lifetime in Azkaban will probably with what she gets."

"Looks like you got your wish, Potter," Malfoy said, glaring with a new sort of hate that Harry hadn't seen before. How did everybody suddenly become angry at him?

"I didn't mean it," Harry grumbled.

"Then you shouldn't have said it," Malfoy retorted before heading back to the castle. The crowd of people was slowly dispersing, leaving Harry alone with a disappointed Ron and Hermione.

"I don't want her dead," he told them. Ron just looked at him, patting him on the shoulder before taking Hermione's hand and following the students back to the castle.


	48. All Alone in Love

**Disclaimer:** The Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Bridget had to force herself to attend breakfast the next morning, known that she might have been a bit overdramatic the day before. Hopefully at least the teachers would have been worried about her and it was necessary to let them know she was alright.

All eyes were on her as she walked towards the end of the Slytherin table, a place that would welcome her in ways none of the other houses could, in ways she didn't want to be welcomed. She kept her head down, using her long, blonde hair as a shield for those who watched her. She'd avoid them all and eventually they'd stop talking about her. Eventually all of this would have to end.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, falling into the seat next to her. She looked up at him with a smile, having forgotten that her cousin was still there for her, a friend no matter what she'd done.

"I'm alive," she told him, shrugging. He frowned then, his grey eyes darkening a shade.

"Potter got detention for what he said to you," he informed her smugly, happy that his enemy had gotten some sort of punishment. Draco had hated Potter before, but it had reached a whole new level when he started acting like a jerk towards Bridget. She had things hard enough as it was.

"I can't believe I let this happen," she mumbled, shaking her head. "I was so stupid."

"It's not your fault, Bee. You-Know-Who-"

"It's not that," Bridget interjected. "I mean, it is, but," she trailed off, gazing wistfully out the windows. She could see the grounds, still calling her name, and yearned to escape from the suddenly claustrophobic feel of Hogwarts. It was funny. She'd wanted to be back here so bad before, but now that she was here it was not at all like she remembered it.

"What?" Draco questioned, drawing her attention back to him.

"I can't believe I let myself get close to Potter with this strange idea that a friendship would work out between us. I should have known this would happen."

"You couldn't have known. Potter is stubborn and thickheaded. He doesn't take the time to really get to know a person. He never did with you."

Bridget shrugged, finding the whole situation funny, in a strange sort of way. Harry hated everything about her, the little that he took the time to know, so much that he rejected her completely. He wanted what was left of her dead, never wanted to see her again.

And yet, despite all of that, Bridget's love for him had not wavered. It hurt worse than she could have ever imagined to be in this state, but she couldn't make herself hate him in the slightest. When she looked at him she didn't see the guy who had told her he wanted her dead; she saw the guy she'd laughed with, gotten to know so easily, and shared many bickering moments with. She saw the guy that waited for her every morning to make sure she was on time, the guy that was there for her when she lost her best friend, the guy that had kissed her back that strange, altering, night.

She saw the guy that hugged her on the train, promising she'd be okay. She'd felt so safe that day, in his arms, so happy to be with him and she hadn't even realized she'd loved him yet.

That was gone now. All those promises, broken. Nothing to stitch them back together now.

"He didn't have to. I was the one who went out that day. I could have stayed in the house and-"

"And what? What's so special about Potter anyway that it matters so much to you?"

The question struck Bridget like a whip, for it was so similar to the one Voldemort had demanded, so similar to the one she never should have answered. She stared at her cousin in confusion and hurt, her mouth open slightly as she contemplated this.

"After class we'll talk some more, but I have to go," she said, suddenly getting up. As she did her eyes traveled to Harry and her body stopped moving mid-stand to watch him.

He was laughing, a beautiful look on his face, at Ron who was probably busy doing something stupid again. She couldn't hear his laugh through the crowds of the Great Hall, but in her head it rang loud and clear, a sound she longed to hear again. She remembered how nice it had sounded with hers, mixing like a melody to go with the smiles on her faces-

No. She couldn't think about this anymore. She needed to forget about him. Shaking her head, Bridget continued to walk, promising herself that after today she would forget about him, or at least stop focusing on him. She could never stop loving him, but there had to be ways to make this less painful.

After a day of sulking she'd move on and nobody would ever have to know she was in love with Harry Potter, aside from her father and Dumbledore. She wouldn't even tell Draco, wouldn't mention what happened that day ever again.

Besides, there were other things to worry about now.

Like Azkaban.

--

Harry sat in charms, scribbling on his notes with boredom. Bridget had shown up for breakfast that morning, relieving Harry of any excessive punishment. She was alive and well, though didn't look too happy as she slithered back to Malfoy.

Things had returned to the way they were supposed to be, with Harry not paying attention in class and Ron making a fool of himself in front of a dubious Hermione.

"Ms. Riddle, what is the incantation for the friction charm?" Flitwick questioned.

This was not to say, of course, that Bridget wasn't still around. Because she was and just because she'd been brought down a few notches did not mean she got any quieter.

"No idea, sir."

"Five points from-"

"I don't have a house, sir," she told him, smirking. "But I bet if you take enough points away I'll melt."

"Ms. Riddle, where are you going?" Flitwick demanded, befuddled as Bridget stood and began walking towards the door.

"Where does it look like I'm going, sir? I really don't know if I can take class anymore, or this school, for that matter."

"Then maybe you should leave," a student said. Bridget met his the speaker with a fierce glare, not even knowing his name. He shut up then, turning back to the front of the class.

So Bridget left.


	49. Ordinary Days

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Sometimes having your two best friends as prefects really sucked. Especially when two first years had made a mess of the sixth flour bathroom, causing those same two best friends to abandon you for an afternoon.

Before, it hadn't been so bad. After Bridget came she was around even when Ron and Hermione weren't, offering a snide retort or friendly laugh. He hadn't felt so alone when she was around, like he wasn't the third wheel anymore. Had all of that really been a lie?

He'd been spending a lot time, recently, thinking about Bridget and the moments they'd shared together. He kept thinking back, analyzing every mood she'd made and rethinking it with the mindset that she was on Voldemort's side. It was a strange thing to do for Harry, and it hurt far more than he'd liked to admit. Everything they'd said to each other, all those lies, it had meant more to Harry than he'd realized. Having that all lost now was killing him a little. It wasn't fair.

If only Lillian was alive. Maybe she'd have the answers to this mess. Maybe it would be Lillian walking with Harry out on the grounds, preventing him from feeling so alone. Her red hair would be blowing in the wind, a light smile playing across her features. Harry felt heavy as he thought about his sister, because even though he'd known her for such a short time thinking about her hurt him. It struck him with a loss that was hard to deal sometimes, especially when he was so alone.

As Harry walked past a grove of trees by the lake he heard voices, one specifically that immediately grabbed his attention. Bridget was talking to somebody, Malfoy it sounded like, her voice solemn and low as she ran her hand through the water at the edge of the lake.

"Are you okay?" Malfoy asked. Bridget didn't look at him, keeping her gaze set straight ahead, focused on something Harry couldn't see. He found himself a seat behind a tree, hiding himself as he listened intently. She'd tell Malfoy the truth, for sure, and Harry would finally understand the things he'd worked so hard to figure out. Questions like why would become clear to him now.

"No," Bridget murmured. "Everybody stares at me now. I feel…" she trailed off, and Harry knew her well enough to know she wasn't going to finish her thought. Even as he knew her Bridget kept bits and pieces enclosed inside her heart, always hesitant to let them out. It surprised Harry that he knew this; he hadn't realized he'd known her so well.

"Ignore them. They're only acting on the rumors, what they've heard. They weren't there when it happen," Malfoy consoled. "What did happen?"

"Exactly what I've been telling everybody. Voldemort wanted me to follow him somewhere and I was damn bored that I did. It was to the Order headquarters and I didn't realize it until it was too late. I fired off a spell towards a Death Eater but I lost aim and it hit Lupin instead."

Harry had to bit his lip to keep from protesting. He'd heard that excuse over and over, for Bridget would not admit to anything else happening. Why would she hide the truth from Malfoy, though? Weren't they on the same side? If anybody, she could confide in the Slytherin prat. Or did Bridget just have a lying complex? Did she crave the lies in favor over the truth, telling them to anybody who would listen?

"I'm sorry," Malfoy whispered. His concern was also an enigma to Harry. Malfoy rarely cared for anybody other than himself, so why did Bridget draw his attention so?

"I know you are. You always are."

They didn't speak for a few moments, words not amounting to whatever they were thinking. This tidbit of conversation was giving Harry a head ache, contradicting everything he believed, everything he wanted to know.

"What else happened?" Malfoy finally asked. Bridget turned to face him then, a confused look on her face.

"What do you mean?"

"You ran away, didn't you? Something else happened and I want to know what."

So this was it, Harry thought. Something else _had_ happened. There was more to the story, more to whatever had happened that fateful night. Harry leaned forward unintentionally, anxious to know exactly what it was.

"Draco, that is none of your business," she snapped.

"What are you hiding?" Draco demanded. Harry held his breathe. His mind echoed the same question Malfoy had voiced and he wondered why she couldn't tell anybody, not even her most trusted cousin. It couldn't be that horrible, whatever it was, could it? Or was Bridget more dangerous that he'd ever imagined?

"A whole lot of rubbish," she sighed, shaking her head.

"Please, tell me," Malfoy pleaded. He placed a hand on Bridget's shoulder.

"How do you know it's anything? Maybe I ran because I had to get away," Bridget jeered with a smile. It didn't touch her eyes, though, leaving a hollow look there, one Harry didn't know existed.

"He was angry, Bridget. I was never there, but from what I've heard…" Malfoy trailed off, a contemplative look appearing on his face. Harry's jaw dropped like gravity, the situation hitting him like a brick while.

He remembered that night. He'd felt his scar burn that night, knowing that Voldemort was angry, but he'd thought it had something to do with the attack. He hadn't thought much of it, couldn't imagine there was something he didn't know.

Something _else_ had happened that night, though, something Bridget wouldn't tell Malfoy, wouldn't tell anybody. She'd done something, said something, caused something to happen that had shaken Voldemort so much that Harry's star still hadn't fully stopped prickling. The attack, made for whatever reason, had not resulted in the way Voldemort had planned.

"Just forget about it," Bridget told him. "I'm already gotten over it and maybe you should too."

"Fine," Malfoy agreed, giving up. "But promise me you'll figure it out? I don't' like seeing you this way," he said before getting up and leaving Bridget all alone. She watched him go, her face composed nicely.

Harry too got up, knowing he wasn't going to get anything else out listening to her. If she wasn't going to tell Malfoy the truth than she wouldn't tell anybody. It was no use obsessing over somebody who would betray him so easily, causing havoc upon his emotions.

Whatever she was hiding it didn't matter anymore. She was dead to him.


	50. What's Right and What's Easy

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

**A/N:** YAY for the 50 chapter. We're just under half way done now. Cool, right? And what a chapter this will be...snickers

* * *

Harry awoke to the cold bite of morning, the snores of his roommates sounding loudly throughout the room. Light was just breaking its way past the dark clouds outside, and it was snowing again. It's been snowing a lot that season, Harry realized, and he wondered why that was.

His thoughts did not wander much farther than that, though, for Harry was not a weather wizard, nor did he ever intend to be one, and for that matter Hedwig was perched in front of him, a letter in her beak and melting snow dripping off her ruffled feathers. She was grumpy from not being noticed and Harry sighed, patting down her feathers nicely. She cooed, then, dropping the letter in Harry's lap. He smiled at her, a goofy morning grin, and pulling on his glasses before handing her some left over treacle tart.

She nipped at his ear affectionately, hopping about on the bed for a few moments before flying off towards the owl tower, happy to have faithfully delivered a prepared for a nice rest or chat with her owl friends.

After she'd gone, Harry lit his wand, not wishing to wake the other boys with too might light, and peeled open the letter as he indulged himself in its words.

_Harry-_

_It's a pleasure to tell you that I'm doing well. Recovery is a sweet, sweet, thing, even for a werewolf. The spell, being cast from a schoolgirl, was not very strong and I should be as good as new in a few days. Well, until the next full moon, that is. But I promise you, Harry, while the event is quite disastrous-it has created logistical havoc for the order-it could have been much worse for us and I beg you not to worry or waste too much of your thought process on it. There are people to do that for you, Harry, adults as it should be. _

_With that in mind I am not so much out of the loop that I didn't hear about the fighting that went on between you and Bridget Riddle. I understand the betrayal you must feel, and you can't pretend I don't because you do remember similar things happening between your father, Sirius, and I. Wormtail betrayed us as well, but I feel as if Bridget Riddle can not be compared to the events of my school friends and I. _

_I have spoken with Professor Dumbledore over the matter and while he would not disclose to me much, he did assure me that he put all his trust in the girl, and I have no choice but to believe him. It is obvious now that something more is going on than meets the eye, but I have met Bridget Riddle. She has helped in the discovery of You-Know-Who's horrorcruxes and I refuse to believe that whatever happened during the attack was of the intentions to hurt you or our cause. _

_That being said, I have forgiven her for the injuries she bestowed upon me. We will move on from this event when a clearer head, better knowledge, and recovery, as I said before, will become a sweet thing. I ask you to do the same, Harry. While I understand the need you feel to gain your revenge on her I must ask that you do not. I am not asking for you befriend her, but merely to forgive her as I have. Be polite, at the least, and restrain from causing any more disruptions at school. Please, I don't want to hear of anymore arguing. _

_Move on, Harry, and for you as well recovery will become sweet. However, much better than recovery is forgiveness, the same sort that was offered to Sirius once the truth was reveled. And perhaps that is the marauder we should be comparing her to. _

_Enjoy the rest of your year, Harry, and try not to concentrate on the bad things too much. You will not be a child much longer and after school ends there will be plenty of time to grow grey hairs with worry. _

_Yours truly,_

_Remus J. Lupin_

_PS. Tell Ron and Hermione I've said hello. _

Harry smiled, pleased to hear from the last remaining friend of his father. How lucky it was that he was alright and while Harry wasn't sure to make of what he'd said about Bridget, he intended to at least listen to Lupin and ignore Bridget. He would move on from the event, as it appeared the others had. There was no need to cause anymore strife over it.

"What are you reading, mate?" Ron asked from his bed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Letter from Moony. He's doing fine."

"That's great," Ron yawned, heading for the bathroom. "Can't wait for-" but he trailed off, not being able to finish he sentence and instead favored the silence that came with a shower and brushing of teeth.

Harry chuckled under his breath, turning his head towards the window. He stared quietly, ignoring the rest of his dorm as they rose, following Ron's example in getting read for the day. He stared at the snow with high hopes; today would be a good day.

--

Today would be a horrible day.

She could feel it in her blood as she gazed hopelessly outside the window, watching the snow fall to the ground. There wasn't much to be done, though, for Bridget was realizing that most of her days were becoming horrible. Today, especially, seemed bad, though.

She rose from her bed, yawning as she turning to look at herself in the mirror, eyes foggy from sleeping. They slipped away form her face, trailing down towards where she kept her pictures, and landing on Seth, her ex boyfriend. She hadn't talked to him since her return to school and wondered vaguely if he hated her as much as everybody else. Seth had always been capable of looking past Bridget's background and focusing on the present, the real her that wasn't evil.

However, she was unsure that sort of relationship would remain in them after she'd cheated.

For that matter, did she want it anyway? Could she really go back to Seth with the knowledge that she was in love with Harry? It would be so wrong to do so, but the thought sounded so nice to her. She missed Seth, though not as much as she missed Harry, and she liked him _enough,_ didn't she?

Part of her didn't care that going back to him would be playing with his heart, leading him to believe things that weren't true, would never be true. One shouldn't go out with another when they loved somebody else, should they?

Oh, but Bridget missed the way Seth would look at her, missed being loved by him, missed having somebody on her side. How hard would it be, really? Seth wouldn't ever have to know.

After getting ready Bridget met Draco at breakfast with a smile, sitting down quietly beside him. He'd found a new girlfriend again, a pretty girl with dark hair and pale skin. Because of this his focus had been altered, the constant worry for Bridget fading behind the hormones that came from having a girlfriend with a shirt that showed too much cleavage.

Sighing, Bridget rolled her eyes, deciding it better not to involve herself in whatever happened between Draco Malfoy and his girlfriends. Instead she turned to face the Gryffindor table, her favorite pastime, and stared at Harry.

He was laughing, sharing a Kodak moment with Ron and Hermione, who were red with amusement. Her heart ached as she remembered being a part of that, and the memories played sadly out in her brain.

With a jump Bridget shook her head, letting her eyes travel to Seth. He was a better option, not so painful to think about, not so hateful towards her. He was talking with a pretty Ravenclaw, an interested look on his face. Bridget scowled, deciding then that she would get his attention today. Who cared if it was wrong? She wanted him back.

Today, she would forget about Harry altogether and throw herself into forcing herself to like Seth again. Even if it was the last thing she did.

--

In the middle of the day, during class, no less, Professor Trelawney froze, the seer in her breaking out. Her mouth opening, a choking sound coming out as she recited the words that would alter the future forever.

Harry Potter's head shot up, immediately recognizing what was happened.

This had happened before.

--

Bridget Riddle _really_ didn't want to go to Dumbledore's office. She knew what was waiting for her there, and wondered if she hid out in her room if she could escape from it. All the same, she walked to his office, the reality of Azkaban crashing down on her like an anvil.

"Come on," Dumbledore said, and the door threw itself open, revealing a very solemn looking Dumbledore. Bridget was relieved to see he was alone, which meant that Azkaban guards had not come for her today.

"Yes, sir?" Bridget asked timidly, for all the same nothing good could come out of this visit.

"Today, during class, Professor Trelawney predicted her third prophecy."

"Excuse me?" Bridget choked, her hand flying up to her chest.

"It may come as a shock to you, but Professor Trelawney is, in fact, a true seer. She had predicted two prophecies before now, each of them relating very direction to Mr. Potter. Today, during his Divination class, she predicted her third."

"I don't understand," Bridget mouthed, her lungs constricting painfully. This could not be happening, could not have happened, could never be true. Whatever Trelawney had predicted it hadn't been good. In fact, it had been bad enough for Dumbledore to call Bridget to his office and inform her of the disastrous events and oh! She was going to faint, throw up, something-

"Mr. Potter was kind enough to write it down, and I knew, as soon as I read it, that you must be informed," Dumbledore said and it was clear to Bridget then that the man was afraid, far more afraid than ever before, and he was passing her a piece of parchment now, offering her the secrets of the future, but Bridget couldn't think, didn't-

"Wha-"

"Please, read."

So Bridget turned her eyes towards Harry's messy scrawl, ignoring the tear in her heart that ached for him, and read.

_He will betray them._

_The one they thought was there friend_

_The one they willingly opened up to will betray them_

_Because they took no caution_

_And only because of the binding commitment The Chosen One Made_

_The Dark Lord shall not be overcome by The Boy Who Lived_

"No," she whispered, a dizzy feeling overcoming her. "You're lying."

"I afraid I am not," Dumbledore sighed, resting his head hopelessly in his hands. Bridget choked down a sob, her eyes staring blankly at the parchment in front of her.

"Sir!" she shrieked. "You have to stop it! Lock him up-sedate him, _anything,"_ she pleaded. "He can't die."

"I can not do that, Ms. Riddle. You may trust that I will do everything in my power to keep him alive, but I can not alter fate."

"I-"

"However," he added, holding up a hand. "You, perhaps, can."

"What?"

"You must help him, Ms. Riddle. If you were honest in what you said to be, that you are in love with him, that you are on our side, than you must to everything in your power to keep him alive."

"How?" Bridget blurted. Dumbledore stared at her carefully, taking in her broken appearance.

"That, I regret to say, you must figure out on your own."


	51. A Walk With the Living

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

**A/N:** I don't know how the last chapter managed over 2000 and this one is under 1000. I am sorry it is short. Truly.

* * *

Returning to the Great Hall after hearing about the boy she loved's impending doom was sort of like playing football after breaking every bone in your body. Her body ached with despair, her eyes clouding over as she tried to ignore the chatter of those students who didn't have to worry about things like this.

The memory of Harry's messy scrawl had etched itself into her brain, almost as if he'd written on it instead of the parchment. The words played themselves over and over, the meaning shouting out above all the clutter. Any previous worries were pushed to the side, this one final reality stealing the show.

Harry was going to die.

He was going to lose, to fail miserably at Voldemort's clutches. Because one must die at the hand of the other. One of them had to die. And Harry would not overcome Lord Voldemort.

Bridget was going to be sick.

She slammed her books down on the table, falling in her seat next to Draco Malfoy. This grabbed his attention, he eyes darting from his girlfriend's breasts and to his cousins worried face.

"Somebody has anger management problems," he jeered.

"Just leave me alone, Malfoy," she sneered, standing up. If he was going to act like that than she didn't want to be around him, didn't want to be around anybody. "I'm allowed to feel angry once in a while and if you're going to be like this than I'm leaving."

"I didn't-"

"Just shut up," she snapped, offering him a pure Riddle glare, the powers of her mother and father alike penetrating into Draco Malfoy. Oh, if only looks could kill.

Bridget grabbed her things and stalked out of the Great Hall, not knowing what to do with herself next. What was there to do? She had to help Harry, had to keep him alive, but how could she when he wouldn't even talk to her? How could she do anything to stop this, this disaster that had thrust itself upon her.

If he died…

She couldn't bare to think about it. A life without Harry wasn't a life at all. It was one thing when he was alive and well, happy as a clown, but still ignoring her. She could handle that. The idea of him _dead_ plagued her, though, and she wondered that if he died she might die right along with him.

"Bridget?"

"Will!" she exclaimed, surprised to see the first year she'd met only once jogging after her. She'd forgotten how small the first years were, and a small smile crept on Bridget's face at the innocent look on his.

"How are you?" he asked politely.

"Okay," she said, not willing to torment him with how she wasn't okay at all, how everything had fallen apart.

"Good! Just wanted to say hi. Hadn't seen you in a while, but now I have to head off. My friends are waiting," he rambled. Bridget laughed weakly, nodding.

"It's okay. Thank you. I'll talk to you later."

--

During Care of Magical Creatures Bridget paid no attention. Hagrid was rambling on about some nonsense, but Bridget kept her gaze intently on Seth. Determination burned strongly inside of her, and while she knew full well that anybody who might be watching her would think she was crazy, Bridget cared not. She had knew meaning now, new hope.

She wasn't going to sit around pouting anymore. It was ridiculous the way one boy had affected her. Hadn't she promised herself this would end? And really, having no friends was quite unattractive.

So she'd mentally made a list of things to do, and even though it currently had only two items on it she was sure to had more.

Save Harry Potter's life

Get Seth to talk to her.

So far, she had no leads on the Harry thing, but Seth would be an easier target.

"Seth," she stated, walking up to him after class. Her hair blew widely in the wind, hindering her view of Seth's expression for a few moments before she gathered it up and out of her face. Seth was looking at her uncertainly, as if he'd forgotten who she was.

"Hi," he mumbled quietly, looking towards his feet.

"You don't believe what they all say about me, do you?" she asked, frowning.

"No!" Seth exclaimed, looking up again. "I always believe you. We just haven't talked in a while and…I didn't know where we stood."

"We should talk more often, then," Bridget amended with a smile. "I miss you."

"But…"

"Look, Seth," she pleaded, dropping her voice an octave lower. "I made a lot of mistakes in the past. I mean, I seriously screwed things over. But…I'm looking for any redemption I can get. So what do you say?"

"I say there's a Hogesmead trip coming up. And we should hang out together then."

"Like a date?" Bridget questioned, wiggling her eyebrows. Seth stopped to think for a moment, a look of concentration on his face.

"I'm not sure about that," he said slowly. "But we'll see."

Bridget grinned, giving him a hug.

We'll see was good.


	52. Attempts at Love

**Disclaimer:** Potteverse belongs to Rowling

**A/N:** Back to decent sized chapters, I think...

* * *

Seth was, in short, a nervous wreck. He was also possibly crazy, but that fact he chose to ignore.

The honest truth was, though, that there were a million reasons to avoid Bridget Riddle at all costs, but Seth wasn't listening to them. He ignored it all in favor of her company, the weakening smile playing across her features, and the warmth that accompanied her touch, the feelings that followed their growing closeness, a familiar and missed feeling.

Seth wasn't sure if these good things overwrote the bad, though.

First of all, Bridget Riddle was known throughout the wizarding world for being the daughter of a murderer, with her own sick aspirations to follow in his footsteps. Over and over _The Prophet_ proclaimed her lies, declaring that she was just as evil as her father. She'd proved it, after all, in the greatest betrayal of the age, selling out her friends and the Order to her father.

Because of this, Bridget's days were numbered.

She denied it all, though, promising to Seth repeatedly that they were all lies; she was on the good side. What choice did he have to believe her? How could he deny her when she needed him so much, when he enjoyed her too much. He was enthralled with her, in love with her, wanted to spend every free moment of his time with her.

Keeping that in mind, it still hurt Seth that she had cheated on him. He still didn't completely understand the reason she kissed Harry Potter, the thoughts and actions that took place in those few days leading up to their break-up. This bothered Seth a bit, for Seth knew that it was thin ice he was walking on when it came to Harry Potter. They'd never had much of a liking towards each other which added to the anger in Seth when he thought about whatever lay between Bridget and Harry.

However, Harry Potter was no longer as issue. With Bridget's betrayal he'd turned his back on her; they no longer spoke, but instead favored ignoring each other.

It was a bit of an issue for Seth, surprisingly, for Harry made it his responsibility to turn the whole school against Bridget and anyone who spoke with her, including him.

"You're just as bad as her, you know. Why are you going anywhere with that traitor?" Potter demanded the morning of Hogesmead, waking up around an unfortunately similar time as Seth.

"You aren't my mother, Potter, I can go out with whoever I want," Seth snapped, rubbing his temples. Now was not the time for silly accusations.

"Keep her away from our dorm, at least. I don't want to see her."

"It's not like she ever came up before," Seth scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"She did, though. Or don't you remember?"

"What the hell are you going on about?" Seth growled, eyebrows knit together in confusion. Physically, his and Bridget's relationship never amounted to much. Seth didn't have any idea which event Harry was alluding to, for they'd never even had a heated snogging session in the bedroom.

"She came up here, waking you up, just before she went running off to _daddy,"_ Harry seethed, the name falling off his tongue like venom.

"Oh, right. Neglecting the fact that you flirted shamelessly with her that morning, bearing your chest for all to see, and that it was that evening she kissed you."

Harry's face faltered, breaking down for a moment before it hardened once more, eyebrow raised. His arms were crossed, his eyes challenging Seth. On this matter, Harry had put his foot down.

"I don't want anything to do with you or her anymore-"

"Exactly!" Seth exclaimed, throwing his arms up. "_Anymore._ You were friends with her once, you know. It wasn't too long ago that the two of you were nearly inseparable. Then she goes off and kissed you and any sane person would just _be with her_ but you ran off with that sixth year and before you knew it she was-"

"Bridget Riddle was always a traitor," Harry said, his voice low and dangerous. "She didn't sell us out to Voldemort because I got a girlfriend. Whatever relations she had before were a lie and I'm willing to bet yours are too."

With that Harry left, stalking down the stairs to go pout in front of the fire. Seth stared after him, and even if was given the chance he didn't think he could have replied to that statement.

It sounded truer than he thought even Harry intended it to be.

It was then that Seth decided Harry Potter would no longer come between himself and Bridget. He was taken out of the equation, no longer causing problems and ruining things. Seth wouldn't let him do this anymore.

As Seth turned back to the dorm he saw that the rest of his year had woken up, witnessing the fight, and they were all staring at him curiously. After a moment of awkward tension and silence Ron stood up, heading for the door. He probably wanted to follow his friend, play sidekick, and comfort the boy.

Before he left, though, he turned to Seth, his blue eyes shining with passion.

"Thank you," he said clearly, so that there could be no mistake in his words. Seth's eyes opened, and he sensed no sarcasm in Ron Weasley's voice. His thanks her genuine, though Seth could not place what he was thanking him for.

Did Ron not feel the same way about Bridget that Harry did? Was it possible that Seth was not the only one that trusted her, that Ron believed her just as surely as he did?

--

"Thank you, Seth, _so much_ for trusting me. And being here with me," Bridget enthused, taking his hand in hers. Her smile was bright, her gratitude burning strong.

"It's alright," Seth assured her. "I'm glad we're trying this again. It should be more simple this time, without Potter."

Bridget forced herself to grin at that, her heart screaming to disagree. Her heart grieved at "without Potter" and Bridget never wanted to hear those words again. She didn't want there to be a "without Potter," didn't want a life that didn't have him.

She had one, though, and even though she knew life was _not_ about to get any more simple she nodded to Seth, letting out a nervous laugh.

"Yeah," she breathed.

"Good!" Seth exclaimed, and then changed the subject. "How was your holiday?"

"Oh," Bridget gasped, wondering how she suddenly found herself caught in a web of lies with Seth. She supposed that's what happened when you found yourself in love with somebody that wasn't your sort of boyfriend.

"What happened?"

"I ran away," she explained with a shrug, rolling her eyes.

"Why?"

"Wouldn't you?" she laughed, hoping he'd just give it up. It wasn't as if she could tell him anything about that. She never really could, even before there was anything to tell. Voldemort didn't make sense to Seth in the way he should. He didn't quite understand what Bridget was put through every second of everyday, knowing she was his daughter.

"I guess your right," Seth laughed.

The conversation continued casually after that, but the more it persisted the more Bridget felt distracted and saddened. She wished life could be like this, the way she pretended it was, but there were so many other thoughts looming on her brain. Like the prophecy…like Harry…like how everything had so suddenly fallen apart.

There were all going to die. She was going to Azkaban, Harry was going to the clutches of Lord Voldemort, and the world would end.

What point was there to this petty school drama? The crush she forced herself so hard into…She could never be happy and sometimes, especially at times like these, she wondered why she tried.

But then Seth smiled, not hating her, and she'd smile in return, imagining his hair black, eyes green. She'd bring herself back to the real world eventually, but for now pretending was better.


	53. Point of No Return

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Life, for Harry, was an oxymoron.

Ever sense the moment he'd heard the prophecy, learned his fate, sealed his death, his mind had broken down. Death was the only lingering thought on his brain, his movements slow and his eyes always foggy. He slept little at night and no longer paid attention to petty things like school work.

Though it had not happened yet, the world was over. He'd lost. What was the point anymore? If he was going to die anyway…

His mind reeled with thoughts, his heart aching with loss and Harry could never stop moving. He had to busy himself, had to distract himself, had to focus on anything else but this…anything else…but he couldn't. How could you ignore the fact that you were going to die? Lord Voldemort would kill him, the words were plain and clear.

And yet, while his mind was moving far too fast for his body, his life had seemed to halt. He could do nothing to affect the war anymore. It wasn't just that he had given up, it was that he'd been given no chance to aid in anything. For certain, Harry Potter had not given up. If he could not win the war surely he could put a dent in the number of strengths Voldemort held over him.

Harry spent lots of time walking as he thought about this, thinking about the way his life had suddenly diverted in a certain direction. Sure, Harry always knew that this was a possibility, but at least before now he had a chance. At least, before now, there was hope. Harry had actually thought he could win this war, could save the wizarding community, but now that had all crashed down.

He wondered sometimes, what would have happened if he'd rejected the proposal to enter Hogwarts? What if the first prophecy, the one declaring him "The Chosen One," had been placed upon Neville? What if the burden was off his shoulders, the scar erased from his forehead?

Could Harry ever wish this upon somebody else, though? No, the answer was he could not.

Though he hated what had become of him, what had happened to his life, he would never trade. No one knows why fate chooses its paths, but there had to be a reason for Harry to have been chosen. There was, at one time, an upper hand that Harry held over Neville Longbottom or any other person in the world, really. What that was, though, Harry did not know. Because of this, he did not know what had happened to change his chances, to take away that power. He could not get it back now.

He didn't want anybody else to have this burden. He wasn't glad it was him, but knowing what a burden it really was Harry knew-felt it deep inside of his soul-that not even his worst enemies deserved to be the alleged savior of the world.

As Harry thought over the more recent prophecy he did not ponder over his death. That piece of the puzzle was clear. It was the other lines that confused Harry. He was to be betrayed by a friend, just as his father had been. The only one he could think of was Ron, though, and Harry would not bring himself to think in that direction. Ron had been with him from the beginning, before any of this. The bond they shared was strong-stronger than his father's with Wormtail.

Even more confusing than that was the commitment piece of the prophecy.

_Because of a binding commitment _

Harry could not image any commitment he'd made or would ever make. What exactly qualified as a binding commitment, anyway? Surely Harry would be smarter than to commit to something that would hurt him in the end, unless he was somehow forced into it.

As Harry found himself on the grounds his eyes caught blonde and a familiar feeling rushed through him.

Bridget Riddle was out running on the grounds, alone, and the sight of her set a wave of determination through Harry.

Harry knew he could not kill Lord Voldemort, but he vowed to himself with the hopes that this wasn't binding that he would kill his daughter. If it was the last thing he did, Bridget Riddle would die at his hand.

He could do it right now, in fact, and he was sure the ministry wouldn't even mind. She was coming closer to him, after all, though she did not seem to notice he was there. She had a knack for being completely oblivious to her surroundings when she was running.

On impulse, Harry raised his wand, the words crawling up his throat and tickling his tongue. His mouth opened, hate and despair burning his insides, but he was distracted as a large bird landed in front of Bridget, slowing her down just a foot away from him.

Time seemed to slow as Bridget took the letter that had fallen so gracefully in front of her. Her eyes gazed up at the owl as she watched it fly away, and Harry knew then that this was no friendly letter. The owl, Harry could tell by its behavior, was professional and therefore the letter was official.

Bridget's gaze fell upon his green eyes and he noticed the hollow look in hers. She did not speak to him, did not mask the hurt and hopelessness in her face. She couldn't, in fact, for emotions of this intensity were so hard to hide…

It shocked Harry to see her the way she was, because even though she looked just the same as she always did there was a striking difference. Her posture was lax, her behavior slower and filled with a depression Harry couldn't understand. He couldn't even to begin to comprehend the difference, and yet she looked so familiar. The lost look on her face, the solemn silence she held…

It mirrored his attitude completely.

Harry had not noticed when she started toward him, swaying dangerously as she clutched the letter in her hand. Harry's wand somehow fell to the floor, his hands forgetting how to operate momentarily.

She look at him with such intensity then that Harry wondered if he'd ever uncover from his frozen state, but the spell was broken by her words.

"You got what you wanted."

And the letter was shoved into his chest before she took off.

_Dear Ms. Riddle, _

_After your very unnecessary and disruptive actions around Christmas we at the ministry feel it is best you are punished. After many long hours of deciding your punishment we find it fit that we give you a cell in Azkaban. It will be life time, unless innocence is proven. Until then, we see no reason to believe you are anything but guilty. Seeing as you were spotted at the attack, and did harm a man, we feel that you should be locked up, for we fear that you may cause more damage. Please go to your headmaster's office were an official will be waiting to take you away. _

_Oh, and don't try to get out of this. You must know what a close eye we've had on you by now._

_Cornelius Fudge_

And that's when Harry knew that her fate was sealed just as tightly as his.

--

Bridget did not cry as she walked to the headmaster's office. She did not even blink, did not lose the composure she struggled so profoundly to keep erect. She could not keep steady as she knocked on Dumbledore's door. She felt like fainting, and though Bridget had never been able to feel pain there was nothing compared to the sharp knives that were digging roughly into her sides, tearing her to pieces.

"Ms. Riddle," Dumbledore greeted solemnly. She was grateful he still believed her, but it would do nothing now. She was a lost cause, doomed to rot in Azkaban for the rest of her life. She hated the way her name sounded on anybody's lips and wished beyond all wishes that she could have been somebody else.

Anybody else, please, could be better than this.

Cornelius Fudge, accompanied by a Dementor, walked her out. Somehow, the students seemed to have found out she was done for and had entered the halls in hopes of seeing Bridget Riddle before she was locked away forever. To Bridget's great remorse none of them seemed even the least bit saddened by her leave.

Seth had not shown up, but that was probably for the best. She didn't want him to see her like this, shamed and alone in her final hours. She figured it was lucky she wasn't getting the kiss, but sense no trial had been held they were very careful about only locking her up. It wouldn't matter either way, though. She wouldn't try to escape after this.

There wasn't anything left to escape for.

At the end of the endless line of classmates stood Harry, along with Ron and Hermione. They all had blank expression on her face and Bridget hid her eyes, using her blonde locks as a shield to hide herself from the judging eyes. She couldn't bear to look at any of them, the closest she'd had to friends aside from Lillian.

_Lillian_

What would Bridget's best friend say now? Would she defend her, or side with her brother and believe every lie told. Bridget couldn't bring herself to decide, couldn't dwell on the subject any longer. She was too ashamed of this, too empty to do anything.

As she left the school, never to return, Bridget glanced back once more, taking the time to notice Harry Potter for the last moments.

"I'm sorry. And I love you," she whispered, bringing her hand to her chest. She clutched her cloak angrily, her nostrils flaring slightly before turning around again.

And then they were gone.


	54. Lost Love

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Bridget was thrown in a cell, but the small space was not empty. She was blessed with the company of a girl named Darcy, who would not tell the reason of her residence in Azkaban prison. It was a little strange, to Bridget, that cells would be shared in the wizarding prison, but her guards made no comment on it. Instead, the dementors focused on stealing her happiness, driving her crazy.

Darcy knew from the moment she saw Bridget who she was, though the resemblance was not obvious.

"You're his kid, aren't you?" she stated, the questioning tone only an act of politeness. Bridget laughed, finding it strange that there was any lingering politeness in such a horrid place as this.

"How did you know?" Bridget asked quietly, looking down. Darcy cackled, the hints of crazy leaking out. It was clear the older women had been in this cell for a very long time. Bridget tried hard not to think about the fact that she would soon share the same insane demeanor and helpless posture.

"We hear things here, despite our remote location," Darcy shrugged. "What'd you do to finally land yourself in a cell with little old me?"

"I didn't-"

"Don't bother," she laughed, contradicting herself. A dirty, wrinkly hand was held up, her pale face set in a state of awkward concentration.

"It wasn't my fault," Bridget whispered, turning away from the women. She found solace in the back corner of the cell, a favorite sulking place and the spot where the moon shone most brightly.

It had been a long time since that day, though. There was no way to count days in Azkaban, so Bridget did not know how long she had been there. Somewhere a few sunrises back the time switched from short to long, and along with that came acceptance.

She tried to focus on any happy memory she could find, but the dementors were sucking the life out of her. She didn't want to eat no matter how hungry she got and hoped she could just fall asleep on the cold, damp floor and never wake up. She wasn't even sure of her innocence anymore, had lost all sense of reality.

The past live she'd had was forgotten. There wasn't any going back now and Bridget figured it was better to forget than have to remember and live with all the mistakes and regret.

And yet, though so much had been lost, the worst pain of them all was remembered, haunting Bridget's cell like a ghost.

She still loved Harry. Though she tried not to dwell on him much, her heart had taken a permanent state of aching, and of all those she'd known before prison his face burned brightest in her eyes. She couldn't remember the faces of her classmates, not even Seth or Ron, but Harry's features defined themselves perfectly in the mind's eyes.

She was going to love him forever, remember him forever, and though he'd broken himself away from her she could never, ever, escape from him.

Half of her didn't want to.

--

_He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has become relentless. His anger is strong after the capture of his daughter, and more deaths hang in the air every day. The war is heating up, and if something is not done soon…_

"We have to do something. We can't just sit here," Hermione wailed, though her voice stayed hushed as she leaned into Ron.

"But what?" he questioned, eyes wide with panic. He'd spent many hours racking his brain for the answers to the question he had just voiced, but there was nothing left to be done. They were still in school, planning to finish out the year, and until then they'd have to sit around with the rest of their classmates, as if they couldn't affect the war at all.

"Something," Hermione murmured quietly, clutching the roots of her hair in desperation. "We can't just sit here!" she repeated.

"But we don't really have a choice."

"Oh, I know that," Hermione sighed. "Of _course_ I know that. But I don't know how much longer I can do this," she confessed. She looked up at Ron then, casting a hopeless look in his direction. Her chocolate brown eyes were watery, niches of pain standing out in certain places in her irises.

"Hermione," Ron started, placing a hand on hers. What else could he say, though, when his emotions mirrored hers exactly?

"I can't just wait for Voldemort to come along and kill him. He's my best friend, and-"

"I know," Ron cut her off; he understood completely. He was in the same boat as his girlfriend, feeling all those things she couldn't say, all those feelings there were no words for.

"There has to be a way around it, some loophole, if only-"

"What are you guys whispering so intently about?" Harry questioned from behind them, dropping into the seat across from Ron and picking up a piece of toast casually. Hermione's head shot up in alarm.

"Nothing!" she exclaimed quickly. She knew that the time spent with Harry would be delicate, knew that they were walking on thin ice every moment he was around. More than it could ever affect them the prophecy touched Harry, piercing every bit of him. Harry was a mess, though he covered it well.

He didn't have to act like anything was wrong for his friends to know, though. Nobody, not even the Great Harry Potter, could know how to deal with the knowledge that your death was looming in the near future, that there was no way out of it now. Was it better to have this warning, the trio wondered. Couldn't the prophecy had been kept secret, for if Harry had to die couldn't his last months be spent in happiness instead of dwelling over the worry and the pain?

"Oh. That," Harry grumbled, the light expression in his face disappearing.

"We're _worried,"_ Hermione stressed, wringing her hands together. Her nails dug into her palms, fearing Harry's infamous temper, his unsteady reactions.

"Isn't everybody?" he laughed, though the situation was in no way funny. "We're all concerned over the Boy Who Lived's safety. His health is always at risk and he's probably going crazy. If only we could help him," he drawled on sarcastically.

"Please, Harry," Hermione pleaded, her face breaking. Lately, comments like these were all that came out of Harry's mouth. He was rarely happy, his temper always on edge, and Ron had said that his nightmares were getting worse.

There was no ignoring that everything had suddenly changed, throwing them into some distant and difference dimension as life suddenly and swiftly fell apart.


	55. Shut Your Mouth

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

"I'm bored," Bridget Riddle murmured into the darkness. Was it dark because it was night, or because that was how the day had decided to appear? Was it late in the night or early in the morning? Had she been here months, years, decades? There was no way of telling. Bridget didn't even know how she looked, though she supposed it was not very good. Her hair had grown longer and become brown with dirt and grime.

The sun rose and fell, the food came and was inhaled quickly, you slept when you were tired and time no longer held you in its strict chains.

"Welcome to Azkaban, kid. I'm sure you've realized how it gets by now," Darcy commented from the other side of the cell. Bridget raised an eyebrow, turning to look at her cellmate. The two, though they spent all their time together, rarely spoke. Bridget didn't even know what Darcy had done to land herself in the dreary cell. When they did it was small talk, though, comments about weather, food, dementors. And in Azkaban there wasn't much of anything to have "small talk" about. The two were in no way friends and preferred to stay within their confinements, their side of the invisible line that divided the already too small cell.

Bridget wanted to inhale in exasperation, but the air was not plentiful nor clean. She breathed because she had to and any excess would surely destroy her lungs forever. She felt like she was being squeezed, a sense of permanent claustrophobia overwhelming her.

"Doesn't make it any less unbearable," Bridget responded after a moment, a glare set sternly in her eyes. Darcy laughed, something the girl did quite a lot. None of her noises were happy, but rather bitter and a result from too much time spent alone and unhappy.

"Well that doesn't mean you have to complain about it every second of every day. Even Sirius was more pleasant company than you are."

"Sirius?" Bridget questioned, the curious piece of her awoken. She turned her body so it faced Darcy and struggled with her eyes until they settled on the dark haired girls dirty face. She'd never taken the time to examine Darcy before, but with a good shower she could be quite pretty. She had dark black hair that frizzed and curled down to her bottom, and a slender figure that was clearly not just from lack of food and good nutrition. Her face, though marred, held a unique bit of beauty. Through the sadness and despair, behind the girl in Azkaban, there was somebody great.

"My cell mate, before you. He left a while ago, though, escaped. I've been alone for quite some time."

Bridget's mouth opened, her eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Sirius Black?" she asked again, stressing his last name.

"Do you know him?" Darcy asked, obviously unaware of his popularity in the outside world.

"Everybody knows him. He-he was a killer."

"That's not true. He was innocent," Darcy snapped, growing angry.

"I know."

"You do?"

"I knew his godson," Bridget choked out, and Darcy finally met her eye.

"Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

"What happened? To Sirius, I mean. Is he okay? Does Potter know the truth? It wasn't his fault, he shouldn't have-"

"He knew the truth," Bridget interjected solemnly. "Sirius was never publicly innocent, though, until-" Bridget broke off, not certain if she should finish her thought.

"What?" Darcy choked. "Until what?"

"He died."

Darcy slammed her fist against the wall in bitter anger, not bothering to nurse though wound Bridget was sure was now developing. They were too far away from each other for Bridget to fully take in the expression on her cell mate's face, but it was not a happy one.

"No," she whispered to herself. "It's…"

"I'm sorry," Bridget whispered, covering her eyes.

Darcy did not respond, but instead favored the silence that so easily hung over the atmosphere. She sobbed quietly for a while but other than that gave no indication that anything was wrong, that anything had changed.

Bridget was left disconcerted. The story behind Darcy and Sirius Black, though untold, shook something up in Bridget's heart. Though there was no other reason to believe that they held any sort of relationship other than cell mates Bridget could not believe this. There was more to the story.

"You loved him," she murmured one night when the moon shone exceptionally bright.

"What?" Darcy demanded, raising her voice an octave higher than it should have been.

"Sirius-You loved him," Bridget said slowly, realizing the truth to her words as she said them.

"I did," Darcy admitted. There was no point in denying it. "But he never knew."

"I'm sorry," Bridget sighed. "You deserved the chance."

"Did I? Do we who sit in our cells and watch life pass us by, who deserve nothing more than what we are given because of the crimes we've committed, do we deserve those chances?"

"You do," Bridget assured Darcy, leaning forward with emotion. She held no doubt that Darcy deserved to be with Sirius, the one she loved. It didn't matter what the women had done in the past, there was redemption for everybody. If there was only a way to prove to the ministry that people could _change…_

"And you?"

"Do I…?" Bridget pondered, closing her eyes in thought. Did she deserve to be out of Azkaban? Yes, Bridget was innocent. The attack had been a mistake, a misunderstanding, and she should not be punished for her ancestry.

Did she deserve those chances, though? That was another story. Maybe Bridget deserved the chances with Seth, the chances of friendship with Draco, or perhaps even Ron, but did she deserve the chances with the one she wanted? Did Bridget have any right to be anything with enemies with the one she loved most? She wasn't so sure.

"Who is it that you have, outside this cell?" Darcy questioned.

"I have no one."

"Don't you?" Darcy demanded. "Don't tell me that the daughter of Lord Voldemort had nobody."

"I lost it all and that's why I'm here. It was all a mistake…but…"

"I hear more now than I did before. I know of the attack," Darcy explained. "You say it was not your intentions?"

"I hate my father. Anybody on his side is not on mine. But he is my father and because of that…"

"You stand in the middle, unwilling to stay, but unwilling to let go."

"I have let go. I hadn't before, but I have now," Bridget defended, crossing her arms.

"Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on," Darcy prodded. "Who am I going to tell? If you don't talk about it now when will you ever get the chance? You're stuck here!"

"I think I liked it better when we were silent."

"I have told you about my losses, what of yours?"

"I fell in love with the wrong person," Bridget sighed. "I wasn't ever supposed to be like this, but so much has happened and I can't go back."

"Who?"

Bridget looked at Darcy, her mouth pursed in a tight line. Darcy, who had not had any interesting information for so long leaned forward in anxiousness. The outside world called her so and any news of what had happened enthralled her.

"I can't say the name."

"Because it hurts?" Darcy asked, though there was light amusement in her tone. Bridget shook her head, not bothering to admit even to herself that that was half the reason why.

"No, it just sounds stupid. I'll feel like a fan girl or something, even though I know it's not like that."

"So you love somebody famous? You've _met_ somebody famous? I didn't know you could do that, but I suppose you are a Riddle-"

"Shut up," Bridget snapped, annoyed with Darcy's babbling. She talked fast and earnestly, some different and strange personality coming out with all this new information.

"I knew him through school."

"And?"

"And I love Harry Potter."

Darcy froze for a minute before erupting in a fit of laugher, the laughter not affected by dementors or bitterness. It was _funny_ to her.

"You? Harry Potter!"

"Stop it. It's not funny," Bridget ordered, but her voice held too much of a whine to be taken seriously.

"And," she chuckled, regaining a bit of composure. "How did that go for you?"

"Oh, my father almost killed me for nothing; Harry hates me anyway."

"Good for him," Darcy retorted, turning to retreat to her appropriate place on the other side of the room.

"I hate you."


	56. Azkaban Looks Good Now

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Harry Potter shot up in bed, sweating. His eyes were wild, his hair disheveled and his nose itched. He sniffed the hair, feeling quite like a dog, but there was no time to focus on silly similes. The air smelled of death.

Voldemort had attacked and he'd _slept through it._

--

Bridget and Darcy had taken to laughing. Laughing, because if they didn't laugh they'd cry. Bridget twitched deviously, her right hand never ceasing movement. She itched to do magic, to do _something,_ to run or dance or scream without being punished for the next twenty-four hours. She kept trying to run her hand through her hair, but couldn't manage the smooth movement like she could before. Her hair was a rat's nest.

"You, on the right," a wide young man snapped from outside her cell. Both Darcy and Bridget's eyes snapped up from where they'd been laughing at a spot on the floor, completely mental, to meet the gaze of a ministry official.

"Me?" Bridget choked, stifling a snicker. "I haven't done anything wrong, promise!"

"You're out. Get up."

Bridget stared at him in confusion, the amusement leaving her face. What did he just say? Did he say she was _out?_ Out of what? Did they run out of something? Bridget looked around the cell frantically, counting the rocks and small bits of ragged furniture.

"Are you coming or not? Because if you'd like it we can just leave you here…"

"You mean I can come out?" she exclaimed, eyes wide. "I don't have to be here anymore?"

"Apparently not. They're somebody in the main office waiting for you."

Bridget felt the adrenaline pump in her veins. All previous thoughts were lost because she was free! She didn't have to sit and rot in the smelly cell because somebody was _waiting_ for her. She jumped to her feet and the ministry official stunned Darcy.

"Wait-" Bridget protested, looking back at her sort of friend.

"She'll wake up eventually, kid. You're out, but she's not."

Bridget stared at Darcy's limp from on the ground, a sort of sadness tainting her glee. It wasn't fair that she should be let out and not Darcy. What had caused this…?

"Let's go," Bridget murmured and with a wand pressed against her back she was led towards the edge of the isle, where a large building rested. Pushed inside, Bridget took the time to notice the difference in the way this building looked from her cell. The air was fresher, the colors brighter, and the ground softer. Her stomach twisted as she was led to a small room, forced to sit still and quiet as she waited for her guest.

"It has been a while since I have seen you, Ms. Riddle, and my have you changed."

"Professor!" Bridget breathed, shocked to see the baby blue eyes and white beard of Headmaster Dumbledore, come to speak with her. Was he her rescuer? Had the man worked his magic and convinced the ministry of her innocence? Relief and thankfulness washed through Bridget as she stared in awe at the man, her mouth wide open.

"Would it be inappropriate to ask how you have been?" he questioned with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. Bridget shrugged.

"Probably."

"Then I will stick with the assumption one must have when meeting a young women who has resided in Azkaban for one and a half months."

"That short?" Bridget gasped in shock. She'd thought it had been so much longer, but school hadn't even let out... "It's felt like years. I thought everybody had graduated, moved on, died, something."

"It would appear not. Not much had changed since you have left, though they have gotten worse."

"Oh," Bridget mouthed. If the thought of coming out was possible, she hoped it would have been after Voldemort's demise. She'd never expected to be released so soon, so fast, so _still_ in the middle of a war.

"It is February tenth today, a Sunday, and tomorrow morning I will expect you to return back to school."

"What?" Bridget choked, confused. She was just free so easily? She hadn't even been out of her cell an hour and already she was allowed back in Hogwarts.

"Of course, it would be best to keep yourself on low profile, but aside from that I do not see why you can not return to life as it was before Christmas."

"With all due respect, headmaster, life will never be like it was before Christmas."

The old professor did not respond, but simply sat with his hands folded and a tranquil smile on his face. His eyes did not twinkle this time, but instead held a seriousness behind them that disturbed Bridget. There was more to the story, the reason for her redemption was not a good one.

"This is a paper I have received early. It will be distributed throughout the wizarding community tomorrow and it holds the truth for your release."

Bridget took the paper in her hands, examining carefully the title. A picture of Hogwarts was on the front cover, followed by a small, but pressing article.

_Friday night He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For a month now we have been experiencing the consequences of You Know Who's anger, but we could never anticipated this. We are unsure of the reason behind the attack, unsure of how Hogwarts' walls seem to be weakening so quickly. What curse has been cast upon the school? This is the second attack this year and it has left us with more casualties than before._

_You-Know-Who is merciless and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants, especially after his daughter was locked away in Azkaban. _

_As a result of his attack there were two deaths, those of a first year named William Smith and a seventh year named Draco Malfoy. Aside from that, another seventh year, Hermione Granger, has been put in a coma and currently resides in St. Mungos._

_We ask that the wizarding community not fear, though. You-Know-Who has chosen a specific type of person to attack, aside from muggles and those who have defied him. Because of this the ministry feels it needs to take action, and action it has taken. _

_For many years now we have believed Harry Potter to be the savior of our wizarding world and up until now the ministry, nor any of the wizarding community, has ever considered other option. Recently, the ministry has found one. We keep it secret, for there are still uncertainties. We do know that if Harry Potter can not destroy He-Who-Must-not-Be-Named than it will. _

"It's me. They've let me out because they know who he's going after. And they've twisted it around to make it a good thing."

"It is true. The ministry fears your defiance of them, but I have convinced enough people of where your loyalties lie. After the attack at Hogwarts there was little choice left."

"And do they mean it all? About Harry not being able to do it and choosing me instead?"

"With the recent prophecy, it is not implausible."

"But why…"Bridget murmured to herself, shocked at the loss of her cousin. She had known William too, only briefly, but he'd believed in her when nobody else did, despite his young status. And _Hermione._ Would she wake up? What if she didn't? Could Bridget bear the bunt of that guilt, knowing that all of this weighed heavily on her shoulders?

"The reason behind Voldemort's actions is never certain, Ms. Riddle, but it is clear that despite your recent quarrel your father does not wish you locked up in Azkaban. If not by force, he drives the ministry by fear."

Bridget exhaled, not feeling able to move.

"What am I going to do?"

Dumbledore stood, his face solemn.

"This afternoon is Mr. Malfoy's funeral. You have been invited to attend. I will take you there before you return back to the school."

Bridget stood with her headmaster, eyes closed is despair.

What had she done?


	57. Crying Out

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

You know life has gone to hell when you walk into a funeral just hours after being released from Azkaban. You know somebody's after you when you can feel no joy after your release from the closet thing to hell on earth. You know there's no hope when the death of a family member is your fault, though you never lifted a wand to commit the act.

Bridget Riddle took her seat in the back, her eyes hollow as she stared at the front where a coffin lay; she tried not to think about who was inside of it. How could this have happened to Draco? Was his father not one of the highest Death Eaters? Sure, he'd made some mistakes, but this punishment was undeserved. Nobody deserved this, especially for the reason it was done.

Lucius Malfoy was speaking at the moment, telling the world of his appreciation for his son, his nobility in dying, the greatness he added to the world. Perhaps this would show the cold man to appreciate what he had before it was gone. Heaven knows Draco was not appreciated by his father in life. Above all else his will to impress his father drove Draco to behave the way he did everyday.

It was strange and infuriated to hear Lucius speak, for he seemed proud of the way Draco died. He wasn't happy about it, no Bridget would not go that far, but what other honor was as great as dying by the hands of Lord Voldemort? Part of Bridget desired the rage, but the guilt was winning her inward battle by a landslide. This was her fault. If she'd only kept her mouth shut…if she'd only done _something_ she could have prevented this.

From what she heard at least his death was not painful. He was not tortured, not taunted, but instead the killing curse hit him quickly, giving him no time to feel anything negative before his death. At least he was granted that instead of the usual way killing were done in the land of the Death Eaters. Bridget vaguely wondered who had done the act, because she was sure nobody in this tight knit group would actually want to kill the son of Lucius Malfoy.

Narcissa, Draco's mother, attempted to make a speech about him as well but her tears hindered her. She was devastated, clearly, and there would be little hope of happiness in the future. She'd loved her son more than anything in the world, pleaded for his safety over and over. Lord Voldemort held no mercy, though. He probably didn't even warn her of his intentions.

_That_, perhaps, was the worst part. Draco did not die by some mishap or because he got in the way as others may have. Whoever attacked that night walked in with clear intentions to kill him. Voldemort could have spoken to the Malfoys just moments before it happened, not warning them at all of what he planned to do to their family.

He'd planned to kill Draco, to kill William, and probably to kill Hermione. It was by a fortunate fate that he failed in the last bit, the only piece of lingering hope in Bridget's mind. She prayed to whatever gods there were that Hermione would wake up soon.

Many tears were shed as the funeral ended, but Bridget could not cry. She couldn't remember the last time she did and was notorious for never letting a drop of liquid slip from her eyelids. This did not mean she wasn't miserable, though. This did not mean she was consumed with guilt and depression.

The funeral ended, the people dispersed, and the graveyard lay empty aside from a few remaining stragglers. The wind was blowing lightly, rustling the leaves from their silence on the ground, swirling them around in small circles as leaves from the trees joined them.

Bridget stood in front of her cousin's grave, letting no indication that she was affected by growingly vicious weather. She stared blankly at the stone in front of her, the finest stone in the yard. It figures that even in death Draco Malfoy couldn't escape his flamboyance. Over and over Bridget's mouth opened as she tried to say something, but there were no words that fit. What was there to be said, and would he ever hear her? She was sorry, so sorry, and she knew the fault lay upon her. Could she admit that out loud, though, even to the silence?

"What are you doing here?" the familiar icy voice of Lucius Malfoy demanded from behind her. Bridget turned around slowly, tearing her eyes away from the gravestone to face her uncle.

"The same thing you are, Lucius."

"You are supposed to be in Azkaban, where you belong," he hissed, raising his wand and holding it dangerously close to Bridget's face. She ignored his hostile attitude with a shrug, indifferent to the anger than radiated from the blonde man in front of her.

"They let me out."

"It is because of you my son is dead!" he yelled, pressing his wand closer. Bridget tried not to show on her face how the words striked her, slashing scars in her heart. She knew it was true, but denied it so flawlessly it was hard not to believe herself.

"How? I did not kill him."

"I do not know why the Dark Lord wastes so much on you, you worthless whore!"

Anger filled Bridget, a comforting alternative to the guilt and sadness and Bridget embraced it, clinging to the emotion with all her might.

"Me? At least I have my own mind instead of following somebody else around!"

_Smack_

Bridget gasped, raising a hand to touch her stinging cheek. Lucius Malfoy had _slapped_ her with all the force inside of him and Bridget could feel a cut where a ring had sliced her. She stared at the man in shock, knowing not how to respond to the abuse. He glared back at her, feeling no remorse for what he had done.

So Bridget ran.

It felt good to run, though her legs were weak and unsteady, but it didn't heal the wounds that plagued her. Her injured cheek was nothing to the pain she felt on her heart, nothing to remorse and despair that lingered so profoundly in her soul.

She couldn't see where she was going; the sun was setting and the sky had become dim with twilight. Her eyes were clouded and Bridget didn't really care where she was going. It didn't matter because all the places where the same. There was no home for her, no place where anybody would treat her differently. They all offered the same range and hate that Bridget had become so accustom to.

It never stopped hurting. She never became indifferent to him and with every glare that met her face a piece of her heart ripped, chipped off, scarred so enduringly it was a question of whether she could ever recover.

That night Bridget had had enough. She was sick of this person she'd become, sick of the life she was suddenly forced to lead. It didn't have to be like this. She wouldn't let it be like this.

She vowed to herself then that when she returned to school things would be different. She would no longer focus on those things that tainted her life, no longer be the same. She knew Dumbledore would come looking for her soon and so she wasted no time in finding a muggle salon.

If she wanted to be different, the first thing to start with was her looks.

By the end of her escapade her hair was shorter, shoulder length, and layered quite nicely. She'd cleaned up a bit, bought some new clothes, and though she didn't look much different then before she was sure nobody at Hogwarts would bother to recognize her. Azkaban had thinned her out, making her bones stick out and giving an unhealthy dim to her face. As long as she kept quiet she could be ignored easily, only choosing to let her true identity known to those who accepted her, the number now very little and dwindling by the moment.

Life would be normal, even if she had to risk everything to accomplish it.


	58. Leaks and Spills

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

"Can you believe it?"

"I feel so sorry for him!"

"I wish we could help."

"Do you think he knows?"

"He can't find out!"

"This is just so horrible…"

"What's going to happen now?"

"Look, there he is!"

"He's coming!"

"Shut up!"

"What's going on?" Harry Potter asked his friend hesitantly, his eyes looking over the Great Hall. All morning he'd heard whispers, seen traveling eyes, felt gazes on him from unknown places. Something had happened, something he was unsure he wanted to know but knew he had to. It didn't take an idiot to know that all those people were gossiping about him.

"Nothing!" Ron assured him, but his voice was far too high to be normal. Clearly he was lying. Harry grit his teeth, his face become stony as he struggled not to snap at his friend.

"What did they write now?" he demanded, grabbing the paper from Ron's tight grasp. Ron struggled a bit to hold on to it, claiming he wasn't done with it.

"Nothing, mate," he lied, trying his best to look innocent. It was difficult, though. Harry, especially now after Hermione's injury, was more on edge than ever. Anything could set him off, driving his temper to new heights. Nobody was safe from his piercing looks or hostile motions.

Ron tried his best to keep his head, to sympathize with his friend, but it was difficult. Hermione had been _his_ girlfriend and he was grieving just as much, if not more, than Harry. He found himself getting annoyed with Harry's attitude, as if he was the only one affected here. After the attack they'd all lost something, though only three students had been directly affected. All of the school was at a loss of security now and slowly people were getting pulled out.

Harry didn't have to be so self-absorbed. It wouldn't hurt him to think about others for a while, consider that he wasn't the only one suffering. It was strange for Ron to think of Harry as selfish, though, for usually his actions were based around what was best for others. His hero complex assured that he would go to all lengths to save somebody in trouble. When he got in his horrible moods, however, they lasted long and tediously, far worse than any trouble Ron had ever been in.

"Give me the paper," Harry ordered, finally ripping it from Ron's grasp.

"Harry, don't," Ron pleaded, but it was too late.

_**Could even Potter fail?**_

_For many years now we have believed Harry Potter to be the savior of our wizarding world and up until now the ministry, nor any of the wizarding community, has ever considered other option…_

Harry didn't bother reading the rest; he knew what had happened that night of the attack, knew he didn't want to know whatever else they had to say about his incompetence of saving the world. It wasn't like he ever asked for this anyway and he didn't give a damn about whatever secret weapon they may have. It was probably bullocks anyway.

"First they count on me, now they think I can't do it? When have I ever assured them I can?" Harry shouted, slamming the paper down on the table. Then he lowered his voice to a faint whisper, though it did not erase any of the nastiness from it. "I can't. After the prophecy…"

"Harry, it's just the prophet. You know half of that's rubbish," Ron tried to explain, tried to distract Harry from the rising anger. His attempts were in vain, though, as Harry glared.

"Piss off."

"Fine," Ron snapped before standing up and storming out of the room.

--

Bridget hid behind the door of the Great Hall, running a hand through her hair as she watched Ron leave. She'd witnessed the fight, could have imagined all those words they'd spoken too quiet for anybody to hear and been shocked right back into reality.

The Prophet probably didn't know it, had probably bluffed their way through that article, but everything they'd said about Harry was true. The prophecy rang through Bridget's mind over and over now, and she was surprised she'd forgotten it in Azkaban. The memories were clear now, and just as haunting as before. With thoughts of Harry's death on her mind it was hard to stick to her previous vow. Turning over a new leaf wouldn't be easy when she was still in the middle of the war that tainted her.

She didn't know what she'd missed in prison, but it was obvious that everything was falling to pieces. With Hermione gone all Ron and Harry seemed to do was argue. They were both too filled with hatred, furry, and despair to be civil to anybody.

Bridget's gaze traveled to Harry and she took the moment to drink him in, remind herself of the boy she thought she'd never see again. His arms were folded on the table, his hest resting tiredly in them. His eyes were closed, his glasses slipping off his nose ever so slowly. His messy black hair was worse than she remembered and it fell delicately over his forehead, hiding momentarily the scar that made him famous. He was thinner than she remembered, his face paler and his movements filled with tension. She wondered if he was asleep as he sat so still, and she figured it would be a good thing if he was. There were bags under his eyes that made it far too obvious he wasn't sleeping.

He was beautiful, even in his hopelessness. Bridget's heart ached for him, her desire to bring happiness to his life burning strong. How could she, though, when he hated her and it wasn't like she had any happiness to give anyway?

As the time for class loomed closer Harry started moving, preparing himself to get up and Bridget tore her eyes away from him, taking a deep breath. She might as well have been drooling the way she was starting at him. It was a good thing nobody knew she was here, then.

With a gulp of courage she walked in the room, surprised that nobody noticed. They were all too busy talking about the latest article, pondering over the secret weapon and feeling pity for Harry. Nobody had time to notice the returning student. Bridget's eyes scanned the Gryffindor table and she didn't have to travel far away from Harry to find Seth, alone, scribbling away at some essay.

She grinned, glad to see him, and plopped down beside him.

"Surprise."

His heat shot up, his quill dropping and smearing ink near the bottom of the page. His eyes were wide in shock, though Bridget could not tell whether this was a good or bad thing.

"What are you doing out of Azkaban?" was the first thing he said. Bridget laughed, deciding she'd rather not talk about the depressing reason she'd been let out.

"It's a long story."

"I can't believe it," he breathed. "I-I though you were gone forever."

"I did too," she admitted, running a hand through her hair. She grinned, noticing how nice it felt to be able to do that again. Seth engulfed her in a hug, pleased by her arrival. Her heart warmed a bit; she'd missed this feeling of warmth and companionship. It didn't even matter that she was sharing it with the wrong person.

"I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Seth," Bridget laughed as they released each other. "I missed everything," she paused. "You have no idea…It's so horrible-"

"You don't have to talk about it," he interrupted, the smile fading from his face.

"Thank you," Bridget said, the ends up her mouth turning up. "It feels good to be happy again."

"Yeah. It hasn't been the same without you," Seth agreed. His eyes were lit up with happiness and Bridget felt the urge to _do_ something. If she was going to be back at school she might as well make the best of it, even if she did have to keep a low profile.

"Come on. Let's make Hogwarts home again!" she exclaimed, taking his hand and dragging him out of the room.

--

Harry sighed, bored with classes already. He hadn't been able to pay attention at all in his morning classes and he couldn't bring himself to go have lunch, not when he and Ron were fighting. There was nobody else to go to now and he knew he should be treating his best friend better. It was just hard…

"I'm sorry for being a git," he announced as he came upon his friend out on the grounds. He felt his ego drop a bit, but it wasn't as if his pride had any height before. What did it matter now?

"You should be," Ron mumbled stubbornly, not turning to look at him. "You're a right git."

"Look, I'm just stressed and worried and…"

"And I'm not? She's my girlfriend, Harry. And what if…" Ron trailed off, not being able to speak aloud what they had all been wondering.

"You two are the ones always bickering!" Harry defended.

"Bullocks, Harry. Even before the attack all you've been is horrible to us. You yell at us and get angry for no reason over things that aren't are fault. You take all this anger out on us-And I don't know where it comes from! I guess your usual anger releases are either locked up or dead!"

Harry didn't respond. What was there to say to that? His mouth opened and closed as he struggled for the words that would make sense, but nothing came. Ron, however, was not done.

"When was the last time you were happy, mate? I can't remember the last time you genuinely laughed."

"Ron-"

"Actually, I can," he interrupted, his eyebrows coming together. "Before Christmas, mate."

"Ron, that's not true. That was two months ago, I'm sure-"

"Is it about Bridget, then? Are you, I mean," Ron fumbled with his words as his anger faded. He hadn't though about it before, but Harry's bad attitude had started right after Bridget's alleged betrayal. Was she, perhaps, the key that triggered Harry's temper?

"It doesn't matter. She's gone."

"And so are you going to be like this forever? I mean…I know I thought, Hermione told me," Ron sighed, figuring it was better to just be straight forward. "Did you fancy her?"

"No! I had a girlfriend and then there was Seth and…either way that was a long time ago. I haven't thought about her in ages."

Ron stared at his friend for a moment, not sure he believed that. It didn't matter how many times Harry denied, Ron would no longer be able to shake the feeling that his unhappiness was connected to Bridget Riddle. It made perfect sense in his head and even better the theory distracted him from Hermione.

Perhaps, if only he could do something….not all hope was lost.

--

"You look really different," Seth commented as they walked through the corridors of Hogwarts. They'd finished their classes for the day and were currently just wasting time, having fun.

"Yeah…"

"I like it!"

"Thanks," Bridget laughed. "Me too."

"What made you decide to cut your hair?" he questioned. "I liked it long too, though."

"Needed a change," Bridget shrugged. She found herself avoiding any discussion with self that wavered on the line of "too personal." The connections were just too close to her secrets, the ones she'd never dream of sharing with Seth, her sort of boyfriend.

"So what sort of fun are we having?" he asked.

"The kind that will get us detention," Bridget snickered.

"Of course."

"I picked up some dung bombs on the way back to school, you know, for fun-"

"Wait," Seth interjected, grabbing Bridget's hand and holding her back. She stopped, turning to face him in confusion.

"What?"

"I don't want to do this."

Bridget's grin faltered and she dropped Seth's hand, staring at him blankly.

"What?"

"I don't want detention. I can't get one and…" Seth trailed off, pleading with her to let him off the hook. Bridget frowned, worried that he didn't want to hang out with her anymore.

"Oh," she mouthed, nodding. "Well…I guess that's okay. I can just…"

"I'm sorry, Bee. We can have fun, promise, just as long as I don't get in trouble for it."

"Alright. Well, I'll see you later then," she mumbled, feeling a bit down hearted at his rejection. She turned on her heal to walk away and Seth did not follow after her. She clutched the bag of dung bombs angrily, not watching where she was going until she rang head on into Snape.

"Bridget Riddle!" he exclaimed in surprise, but this did not hinder his next words. "Detention!"


	59. Posture

**Disclaimer: Potteverse belongs to Rowling**

* * *

"Bee, I'm sorry I bailed. I just-" Seth broke off, a guilty look in his face. Bridget smiled slyly, finding it ironic that he felt guilty. Seth hadn't done anything wrong, could never do anything wrong, his slate was clean. It was Bridget who should feel guilty. It was she who was lying to him, pretending to like him when she loved somebody else. It was she who was the daughter of a killer, trapped in a world she didn't want to be.

It was she who deserved the detention, probably deserved to be back in her cell. In prison she'd considered herself innocent but since then she'd grasped a sane sense of mind. Perhaps she belonged in Azkaban as punishment for the ruins she'd made out of life. It was hard to believe she'd ever thought herself good, ever thought herself worthy to be on the same side of those as Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter. The thoughts sounded quite silly to her now.

"I know," she assured Seth. "It's okay and I would never push you into anything you didn't want to do."

"Good," Seth said, taking her hand and kissing her softly on the lips. Bridget closed her eyes for a moment, seeing brief flashes of glasses and scars. She broke away from the kiss with a yawn.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm tired."

"Have you been sleeping enough?" Seth questioned in concern.

"Apparently not," she sighed. She'd only been back one day but already the nightmares plagued her. Visions of dementors and Draco and Lillian haunted her dreams and kept her awake with guilt and fear. She worried over Hermione constantly, secretly eavesdropping on Harry and Ron whenever possible to try and gather information on her. Apparently there had been no change, though, and the boys' conversations depressed her far too much for her to continue listening.

She was lucky that in two days it would be Valentines Day. She was eager to get her mind off of things with Seth and there was even a dance that Dumbledore had planned with some of the same intentions in mind, though towards the whole castle and not her personally.

Until then she spent her nights running, relishing the feeling of being free again. It was so nice to be able to stretch her legs and forget about things for just a moment of time. Her mind, she was finding, was a dangerous place to be, especially after Azkaban. Things had changed so easily, though as Bridget frowned softly at Seth she realized so much more had stayed the same.

"Ms. Riddle?" a voice called from behind her. Bridget turned from Seth to see Dumbledore and smiled. The man had a light look about him, which meant good news. Maybe Hermione had woken up or Harry had decided, miraculously, that he needed to speak with her again. Of course, such thoughts were delusional, but Bridget couldn't help herself from dreaming.

"Yes?"

"As you've hopefully already been informed, there is a dance on Valentines Day. It has come to my attention that we are at a lack of music and I was hoping, perhaps, that if you were not attending with anybody you might assist us in that matter?"

"Sir, I'd love to, but…why?"

The Professor sighed at this, his light exterior fading. She turned to Seth and his face mirrored hers in confusion. It took a moment for Dumbledore to speak, his voice sounding guilty.

"Contrary to popular belief, as a headmaster I do hear the latest gossip about the school. You came back at an opportune time, the students being preoccupied with the headlines concerning Mr. Potter, but their ignorance will not last long. It would be foolish to believe that they will not be noticing you soon. I supposed it might be easier to get it all out in the open sooner and at once, rather than later and in pieces."

"And while their smitten with Valentines Day love," Bridget added with a laugh. "It's fine. I'll do it."

"Thank you," Dumbledore said with a grin. "Carry on, please."

"So this means we won't go together?" Seth questioned after the headmaster had left. Bridget faltered over her words for a moment, having no quite thought about that clearly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think-"

"You're right," Seth interrupted. "Dumbledore's plan will work better."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, as long as you're happy."

Seth kissed her then, a good distraction from the look on Bridget's face. It was not a smile, as would be expected, but a frown. She kissed Seth in return, wondering how they were suddenly kissing all the time and wondering why she was still lying to him.

They felt so natural, so good together, but Bridget didn't love him. She could never love him, never even have the one she loved.

And so she'd never be happy.

--

"Ms. Riddle, you are late," Snape accused, glaring as Bridget trudged into the potions classroom. She hated detention, hated the fact that it had to be with Snape, hated knowing that whatever he planned for her would not turn out well.

"Sorry," she mumbled, rolling her eyes. She remembered when she and the professor got along well, before she'd betrayed her father and fallen in love with Harry Potter. Now there was no hope that he'd have pity on her, instead just a promise of gruesome work and hate.

"You'll be cleaning out the cauldrons without magic tonight," Snape said, sitting down at his desk. "And near the end your father wishes to speak with you."

_"What?"_ Bridget yelped, dropping the cleaning supplies she'd gathered. "I'm pretty sure that's not part of the Hogwarts protocol."

"I will not deny a father his daughter, will you? You will speak through the floo, but until then clean."

Bridget stared at Snape in shock, realizing now why she'd landed her herself in this particular detention. He'd planned this for her, forced this sort of hell upon her.

She worked for hours it felt, but the time did not pass slowly. She longed for it to drag on, knowing that the longer she took to clean the longer she'd have to avoid facing her father. It would be the first time seeing it since Christmas break, the first time since she'd told him her secret, the first time since Azkaban, the first time since she'd broken away from him.

It would be different from every other time. She refused to fall into his traps again, refused to become like him. She may be blood related, but she would never be a follower. She would never again listen to him.

"Daughter," his scratchy voice called from the fireplace. His snake-like face showed clear in the flames and Bridget exhaled, pleased that he was not here in person. He wouldn't be able to hurt her then, wouldn't be able to force her into anything. Snape had even left the room in favor of giving them privacy.

"Go away," she muttered, not turning to face him.

"And miss the chance of speaking with you?"

"I have nothing to say to you," she hissed, standing to face him in the flames. "I am not your daughter anymore."

"Oh, my Bridget," he laughed. The sound sickened Bridget, sending waves of nausea through her. "You will always be my daughter."

"But I will never belong to you. You should stop trying to contact me because I won't come to you anymore."

"You are here now, daughter," Voldemort stated. Bridget crossed her arms, staring intently into his red eyes.

"I was forced. From here on out, though, we are not related."

"And what if I don't agree to that idea? You wouldn't want to hurt your friends, would you?"

"Don't you get it?" Bridget shrieked, throwing her arms in the air. "I have nothing! You can try to take away anything you want but the truth is there isn't anything left to take!"

"And your boyfriend? What of him?"

"You know the answer to that," Bridget murmured, staring at the ground. As she expected the guilt returned. It must have really gotten bad when even Lord Voldemort knows you don't love your own boyfriend.

"And Potter?"

"Doesn't give a shit about me. You can't take something away that I never had in the first place."

"So this is where you choose to leave us?" Voldemort pondered, his voice surprisingly calm. Bridget stared at him, her mouth opened slightly.

"Yes. You can go be Lord Voldemort, but I am Bridget. And I am not part of you."


	60. Suprises

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Seth had not woken up yet, which was a surprise since Bridget had been sleeping in lately. It was hard to get back into a life when time played a key part in your daily activities, especially when Bridget was forced to stay up late and clean cauldrons with a sidetrack of arguing with her father.

Hopefully, it would be the last time she ever had to, though. To both sides it was obvious what their relationship had become, dwindling down to a bitter hate. Bridget wanted nothing to do with Lord Voldemort anymore and now that she'd made her point clear she hoped he would have the decency enough to oblige. However, the thought of Voldemort having any decency was a long shot.

Bridget sat alone that breakfast morning and she prided herself in the ability to stare at the paper with some illusion she was actually reading it. There was nothing interesting, as usual, in The Prophet. Even if there was it was certainly not something Bridget didn't already know. There were advantages to being so closely entangled in the war.

She was proud of herself that morning, so much that it didn't matter the only one she had left was Seth. She could mask her emotions near perfect by now, probably because she knew nobody was watching. There was a slight warning in her gut that told her things would not be getting easier after tomorrow, when she made herself known on Valentines Day.

"Other side, Seth," Bridget said as she her the boy walk up to her and made a move to sit down. A sly smile lingered on her face, though it had not been torn away form the paper she wasn't reading.

"Why?" Seth asked as he made a move to sit on the left of Bridget. She smirked, stifling a giggle.

"My invisible friend is sitting there," she told him, still not removing her eyes from the words that flashed dangerously in front of her, demanding her attention. She was emerged in the joke now, determined to pester Seth about it all day. It was moments like these that kept her happy, kept her sane enough to live through the days. She'd need a lot of them to get through the rest of the year.

"You have an invisible friend?" Seth sighed, looking at Bridget Riddle, the girl he'd thought he was in love with once. Things had seemed to have changed now that she was out of jail. Perhaps they'd always been this way and Seth was just to blind to see it. She wasn't the girl he thought she was, wasn't the type of person he thought himself to be spending all his time with.

Seth knew he was her only friend, though, the only one she had, but did that mean he should be forced to be with her all the time? He had friends of his own, didn't he? He had friends that were still wavering on the boundaries of talking to him because of this girl. This girl, the daughter of Voldemort, who Seth wasn't even sure felt the same way about him as he did her. Perhaps he had been wasting his time all along.

"Yes. His name is Oogles. Do you like him?"

"Um," Seth mumbled. "Sure."

"Something wrong?" she questioned, setting down the _Prophet_ and turning to look at him. He was picking at a piece of a toast with his fingers, the crumbs getting caught in his nails. Bridget stared at them for a moment as if it were the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.

"No, I don't think so," he said slowly, but his face betrayed him. Bridget looked up from his hands to see the uncertainty that lingered there and she knew then that something _was_ wrong.

"What are you thinking?"

"I don't know," Seth groaned, shoving his plate away with one final jerky movement. "I just…Things aren't the same."

"Seth," Bridget started with a laugh. "You're a fool if you think things will ever be the same."

"No, I know," Seth defended quickly. "I just didn't think you'd change so much."

"I haven't changed at all," Bridget countered. "I'm still Bridget Riddle, the crazy murderer."

"It's that," Seth agreed, offering a peaceful smile that didn't reach his eyes, "And other things."

"Like what?" Bridget inquired slowly, folding her hands nervously. She could smell what was coming, taste the break in the air. She'd been found out. Seth _knew._

"I'm not stupid enough to think that after you lost 'The Golden Trio' and spent over a month in Azkaban that you'd be the same person you were when I first met you, but I'm…" Seth paused, searching for the right words. "You are the same person, or at least you pretend to be."

"I don't understand."

"I feel as if you've changed, but you aren't letting me get to know the new you. You're just pretending to be somebody you used to know, somebody that was lost along the way. And I'm not sure I'm okay with that."

"What are you saying? Seth, please," Bridget whimpered, closing her eyes. Seth frowned, taking her hand in his. His thumb stroked her palm softly, a reminder that though she'd lied to him, though she'd faked her way through their relationship he still cared about her. Not all hope was lost.

"You said I was a fool not to expect change, Bridget, and you are right," Seth stated. "But it is sometimes prudent to cut loose some aspects of our life in order to embrace the change, or else we must face the consequences of _staying the same."_

"You're breaking up with me," Bridget said, her voice flat. There was no question to what she was saying. With Seth's nod confirming it she knew it was over. Everything was over. She was an idiot to think she could have lasted with Seth, could have ever wanted to last with Seth. Just because he was the only one that believed her did not mean they had to be together like this. What they were doing was _wrong._

"I'm part of your life before," Seth told her, releasing her hand and standing up. "You are a different person now and even though it's hard you have to be this new person on your own. You have to find new people and do new things and _be_ who you are."

"I'm sorry I did this to you," Bridget whispered, looking down.

"I'm sorry, too. I feel like an ass for breaking up with you the day before Valentines Day."

"Bullocks, that doesn't matter. You're right and I'm wrong and," Bridget trailed off.

"I don't hate you, Bridget Riddle. I'll check up on you later today and make sure you're not dead or anything. But I am certain we are not making a mistake."

"I'll miss you, Seth."

"Not as much as I will miss you."


	61. Enigma

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

The creamy white sheets spread on for miles, it appeared, as Bridget lay on the edge of her bed, back facing the clock. It was the middle of the afternoon, but Bridget had skipped whatever classes she had left. She felt a bit guilty about this because Dumbledore had been nice enough letting her back to school, she might as well make the best of it. Guilt and Bridget Riddle were close friends by now, though, and she simply added "Not going to class" to the long list of things she needed guilt for.

Currently, she was curious as to what the time was. While Bridget was lazy enough to skip the back of a classroom forcing herself to listen to a lecture, she was not stupid enough to skip dinner. If only she could lift herself up and turn to the other side without falling off the bed…

For any normal person, Bridget thought, the task should be easy. Even Ron, the laziest person she knew, was able to turn over without tasting too much energy. Ron was not Bridget, though, and Ron had friends to pick him up off the ground should he fall.

In truth, Bridget was furious with herself. She kept thinking about Seth, feeling bad about how things ended, and hating that she had to face the truth now that there was no fake boyfriend to hide behind. She _hated_ herself for using him, for hurting him, and for doing this to herself. She'd driven herself into this whole without a second thought, without realizing that the latter wasn't tall enough for her to climb back out.

Bridget really should love Seth. Their relationship really should have lasted forever. She really shouldn't have been so different around him, so scared to show the truth. Seth had given her everything when she had nothing; he was kind and thoughtful. Any girl would love to have him as a boyfriend. Any _other_ girl deserved to have him as a boyfriend.

Because Bridget didn't love him. She loved Harry Potter instead.

_That _was probably the mistake. What sense did that make? Aside from her father, Harry really did drive her crazy. He was stubborn; once he set his mind to something there was no wavering him even if you threw him your best shot. Though Bridget wouldn't say he was arrogant it was fair to say that the world revolved around him. He _was_ famous, after all.

Also, Harry was judgmental. He shut people out in favor of seclusion when he needed them the most. Then, when they tried to help him, his temper exploded. Who would ever want to love somebody with a temper like Harry Potter's? And what about when he blamed himself for everything, are his hero complex got turned on? Harry was known for being exceptionally rash when there was somebody in need. Especially when saving them compromised his own health.

Maybe Bridget loved him because she knew the man behind the fame. The time they'd spent together was not great, but it meant more to her then anything in the world. They'd gotten to know each other quickly, finding out they had similar things in common, enjoyed each other's company occasionally and shared a loyalty that was strong enough to withstand death.

But apparently, not strong enough to withstand Voldemort or Bridget's stupidity.

Perhaps she loved him for the reason that he was everything she wanted to be. She saw pieces of herself inside of them, the stubborn pieces probably, and then saw how he used them for greatness while she wasted them on self pity and blunders.

Growing, Bridget made another effort to turn over and check the time. Suddenly, the door was throwing open and in shock Bridget found herself crumpled on the floor, the bed towering over her.

"You okay, Bridget?" a voice snickered from the doorway. With a glare set hard in her face Bridget looked up to see Seth with an only slightly concerned look on his face.

"Fine. What are you doing here?" she breathed, shaking her head and standing up. She stared at her ex boyfriend in confusion, wondering what he could possibly want with her now.

"Wanted to see how you were doing," he confessed, wringing his hands together. "I was worried."

"I'm a big girl, you know," Bridget said bitterly. "I can take care of myself."

"I know, believe me, I know," Seth laughed, shaking his head. "I just felt bad for breaking up with you at a time like this."

Bridget rolled her eyes, not having to ask what he meant. How depressing it was that she'd become a pity case. Everybody who saw her, though the number was kept down to very few, must think the least of her. She'd become nothing.

"It wouldn't have worked out anyway," she shrugged.

"The why'd you try, Bridget?" Seth suddenly asked, stepping closer to her. He had this strange hurt look on his face, a sort of vulnerability Bridget never wanted to see on anybody.

"I don't know," she whispered, her voice low and hoarse. She crossed her arms, wishing Seth would just go away. It was easier when she didn't have to face him. Confrontation was not a friend of Bridget's, though it forced itself upon her often.

"What got in the way?"

"Please, Seth, don't make this harder than it already is. Don't make me feel worse than I already do."

"It's Potter, isn't it?" Seth asked, though he seemed as if he already knew the answer. Bridget closed her eyes, running a hand through her hair. All she wanted to do was get out of this room, away from Seth, away from her troubles, and be somewhere else. Be somebody else. She'd thought she could run from this!

But Bridget Riddle had been running from her problems far too long and they'd finally caught up with her. There was no choice but to face them now.

"Why would you say that?" she replied, shaking her head. It was harder to admit out loud than she thought. Without the adrenaline and anger pumping her she was weak. Her mouth wouldn't form the words, her vocal cords tightening up.

"Because it's always been Potter. You've always chosen him over me. Everything's about Potter."

"The world does not revolve around Harry Potter, despite popular belief," Bridget countered.

"Yours does."

"Seth, that's not true," Bridget lied in one last desperate attempt to save herself.

"But it is, isn't it? The first time we broke up was because you wanted to save your friendship with him. The second time was because you kissed him. And now? I was an _idiot_ for not seeing it before."

"Seeing what, Seth? It's just me! There isn't anything left to see."

"You know what I'm talking about, Bridget," Seth groaned, stepping back towards the door. "You know. And I know now too. I hope he knows, though. I damn hope Harry Potter knows what he's done to you."

Bridget didn't watch as Seth left, keeping her eyes closed. It hurt to much to open them, to see his face, to look at the empty room, now empty of her secrets. Seth knew. Voldemort knew.

It wouldn't be long before Harry did too.

And Bridget wasn't sure she could handle that.


	62. Collision

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling. The song in the end is titled "All You Wanted" and is by Michelle Branch. All credit is placed where it is due.

* * *

"Damn!" Bridget cursed, waking up to hit her head on the headboard. Groaning, Bridget rolled out of bed and started the day, feeling bitter and alone. Today was Valentines Day and mostly everything about that fact made Bridgets day worse. She was snappish and miserable, and it didn't help that every some she had planned for the dance reminded her of Harry in some twisted way. She'd thought that she'd mastered the act of pushing all her Harry nonsense to the side, but after yesterday's encounter with Seth it had all seemed to bubble back up towards the surface again. She supposed that in some twisted way her fate was fair; she had, after all, pretended to like Seth.

As the girl sat through class and five hundred different love notes and flowers and chocolates that were floating through the halls all day Bridget wondered why she'd ever gotten out of bed in the morning. In fact, why had she agreed to help the school with music for the dance? Did she really want to spend her Valentines Day in the public eye? Did she really want to watch all of her classmates dance together and flirt while she had nobody? It would have been safer to fall into a coma for the date of February fourteenth.

Anything _had_ to be better than this.

--

Ron Weasley missed Hermione now more then ever. He wanted to spend today with her, but she was in St. Mungos and now all he had left was Harry. And in case any of his fangirls wanted to know, Harry was not a cheerful person to be around when you were depressed. Having no friends himself as a child, Ron was Harry's guinea pig and all his comforting tactic were tested on the red head first. Needless to say, Harry wasn't very good at it.

Right now all Ron wanted was his girlfriend back, though. He missed Hermione and found himself constantly worrying about her. When would she wake up? Would she ever be okay? Would things be different when she got back? He often wondered how he landed himself with such a smart, great, pretty girl like Hermione. He only hoped that in her absence she wouldn't have stopped loving him, no matter how foolish the thought sounded in his head.

Harry of course had a date to the ball. He and Sam, his ex girlfriend. had decided to go as friends. Ron wasn't sure why Harry agreed to this, especially since Ron was still holding on to the idea that Harry fancied Bridget. Usually his very famous friend favored to stay in from school events that might draw attention to him or cause him to do something very, very stupid.

Of course, there was still a change Harry could do something stupid and that meant Ron had to go to the ball as well, just to make sure Harry didn't make some idiot out of himself. It would be hell for himself, watching his friends be with their significant others while he missed out because his girlfriend was in a coma. Sometimes, though, one had to make sacrifices for his friends, especially the good ones prophesized to die and save the wizarding world all wrapped in one.

--

Sam giggled as Harry stumbled to dance.

"Havent done this in a while, have you?" she teased.

"Not like this," Harry mumbled. The music, unlike the music at the Yule Ball, was much more modern, upbeat, including a few slow songs, but it was mostly stuff Harry had no idea how - and wouldnt dare - dance too. He found himself struggling to keep up with Sam, who, of course, danced with ease. It wasn't fair.

Who was in control of this anyhow? Harry would like to give him a piece of his mind, making it hard for poor blokes like him. Glancing up to a podium where Dumbledore would usually sit, Harry saw that it wasnt a him, but a her. Shaking his head in disbelief, Harry figured it had to have been a girl working on the music. Only a girl could be this sadistic in forcing Harry to try and not step on Sam's feet. Perhaps she was Voldemort in disguise, come to torture Harry until Sam finally killed him for his atrocious dancing skills.

Harry left a little silly laughing at his own joke so he turned back to Sam and focused on dancing again. It did not take Harry long to become distracted again, though, and Harry looked up at the girl again. She looked familiar. Harry furrowed his brow.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Do you recognize her?" Harry asked, pointing to the girl.

"Um, no. Do you?" Sam asked, laughing. Harry mumbled something she couldn't understand and they started trying to dance again. She found it quite strange that Harry would think anything of some stranger playing music. She did, however notice his attention wasn't on her anymore. It was on the blond in the podium.

--

"Harry look, if you are going to keep staring at her Ill leave!" Sam yelled. She wasnt going to let anybody, not even Harry Potter, stare at some girl while he came with _her._ She knew Harry had some problems with focusing, but not even she could put up with the boy staring a complete _stranger_.

"I'm sorry, its just- I feel like I know her from somewhere!" Harry exclaimed. Sam sighed, knowing how Harry was. Once he got his mind set on something he was determined to solve the puzzle. Nothing would stop him now. Sam could strip down until she was stark naked and Harry still wouldn't pay her any attention until he figured out if he knew the girl or not. Then what if he did? Did she really want to be played, even if they had just come as friends?

"Look, I'm going to go get us a drink. You stay here and maybe by the time Im back youll be over it," Sam said, leaving. Ron, noticed the trouble immediately and came up to his friend, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"What did you do?" Ron asked, knowingly.

"Nothing! Im just distracted!" Harry yelled, tearing at his hair.

"By what?" Ron snapped. How could he be distracted? What could possibly have grabbed his best mate's attention now? Harry sighed, pointing Ron in the direction of the girl at the podium.

"Her. I recognize her. Im trying to figure out from where!" Harry exclaimed. Ron wiggled his eyebrows. He knew her from somewhere too. Great, now Harry got him curious, but at least it would distract him from Herm-

"Okay, I'll try to figure out who she is, you go be with Sam. God, Harry how bad with girls can you be?" Ron said, not willing to think the name. Harry glared at him before socking him in the shoulder, but he obliged. Seeing Sam approach, Ron nudged his friend before returning to his appropriate place as a wallflower.

--

"Come on, lets sit down," Harry offered, taking Sam's hand gently and leading her to a vacant table.

"You figure out who she was?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Nah, it doesn't matter, though. Probably some HufflePuff or something," Harry said, though his could not fully shake his curiosity off. He figured something like that would be a good thing to say to Sam, however. He figured he was right when she grinned in return.

"Good." she said, taking her hand in his across the table. Harry felt himself becoming uncomfortably red. The last time this happened was with Cho and that ended horribly. Harry liked Sam and didn't need her crying by the end of the night. He'd thought he'd be safe by coming to the dance with a friend, but apparently Sam had other things in mind.

"Look, Harry, last time we broke up because of Bridget-" Harry cut Sam off.

"Who-Oh! Right," Harry said. He'd forgotten about the girl, forcefully shoving her out of his mind as soon as Ron dared claim his fancied her. Bridget wasn't the type of person Harry wanted to waste his time thinking about, anyway. Sam giggled all the same. Apparently not remembering the girl that tore them apart was a good thing. Harry felt smug as he glanced at Ron. He could handle girls just fine, thank you very much.

"Yeah. So anyway, now shes in Azkaban, and I really like you, Harry. I feel like I can really understand you, and you can really understand me!" Sam enthused, grinning hopefully. Harry, on the other hand, was not so happy. Yes, he and Sam were good friend, but no, he was not going to date her again. He wasn't ever going to force himself into a relationship again unless he was sure it would work out, or at least cause him less stress than it had before.

"Sam, please, I cant," Harry said. Sam frowned.

"Why not?" Sam asked bluntly.

"Sam, I dont understand you. I hardly understand Herm- let's not talk about that. The point is that I have never understood girls. Ever. You may feel like you understand me, but thats not what I need right now, nor do I want it either," Harry explained, removing his hands from hers.

"Then what do you want?" Sam pleaded, an offended look on her face. Harry sighed. So much for being good with girls, but he'd thought he hadn't hinted in anyway that he wanted anything more than friendship with Sam.

Sam's question struck him, though. What did he want? Was it a worthy answer to say he didn't exactly know? For Merlin's sake he wasn't even out of school! Why should he know what he wanted, especially when he knew it wouldn't last anyway.

"Harry! I know who she is! I could recognize her smirk from anywhere!" Ron exclaimed, rushing up to the table with a silly grin on his face. He placed his hands enthusiastically on the table, his breathing uneven.

"What? How? Who is she?" Harry asked and Sam was forgotten, his curiosity coming rushing back to him.

"That, Harry, is Bridget!"

_What?_

"Bridget? As in Bridget Riddle?" Harry asked, his voice lowering quite a few octaves. He wouldn't believe it. She was supposed to be locked up forever, not let out to run some school dance.

"Yep. Thats the one," Ron stated smugly. Harry looked up at her in disbelief and immediately recognized the features of Lord Voldemort's child. It _was_ Bridget! She had changed a bit, but there she was, in all her glory. It was hard to believe Harry hadn't seen it before. How many times had he seen that sort of bored look on her face, especially when he was talking to her? Overcome with a wave of fury Harry turned back to Ron.

"She got locked up in Azkaban! What is she doing out?" Harry snarled. Sam looked scared as she hung back from Harry. It was easy to recognize a famous Potter tantrum was in the works.

"I dont know," Ron said. Harry wondered why he was smiling. He couldn't find anything to be happy about but there Ron was, that same silly grin on his face.

"Well we have to do something!" Harry yelled, taking action as the Gryffindor savior of the world courage kicked in.

"Im going to go talk to her," Ron said declared, nodding determinedly.

"What?" Harry yelled, outraged.

"You stay here with Sam. Dont worry, she wont kill me. Not here. Not now." Ron said, and then he was walking toward her.

--

Bridget Riddle watched the happy couples dance and have a good time, wishing she could be one of them. She wished her life wasnt so dangerous and she was just a normal girl. Her thoughts strayed from real life as she went through song after song after song, distracted by her own thoughts and wishes.

"Hey," a male voice said from next to her. Bridget jumped and turned to see a certain redhead she hadnt spoken to in what felt likes years.

"Ron! Youre talking to me!" Bridget yelped, grinning. She didn't think she'd ever speak to Ron Weasley again and she missed him terribly.

"Yeah, well, I had too sometimes! But look at you! Youve defiantly changed!" Ron proclaimed, looking her over. Bridget grinned.

"I have," Bridget replied conversationally, though they both knew he wasn't just talking about her looks.

Silence.

Awkward Silence.

"So, uh, I like the music youre playing," Ron commented, trying to start a conversation. What was there to talk about with a girl who'd been in Azkaban for over a month? Well, Ron figured they had a lot to talk about, but he wasn't sure he could face that quite yet.

"I know! I love my music!" Bridget squealed. Ron laughed. It was good to laugh, again. Ron hadn't realized how funny Bridget was, how his laughs were always more frequent with her. He'd gotten to know this girl so well and it was strange, but satisfying, to speak with her again.

"So are you singing?" he asked. If anything, the girl was notorious for the music that came out of her mouth, rather than that which she played through the speakers. Bridgets smile faded, however.

"No," she said flatly.

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"Because."

"Bridget, you used to love to sing. You really should," Ron encouraged her.

"Well, I don't usually do what I should," Bridget snapped.

"Bridget come on. I want you to do this. You used to love this kind of stuff!" Ron pleaded.

"Yeah, well, things change when your in Azkaban!" Bridget cried, slumping back in her chair. Ron was taken aback. Bridget had changed in many ways. She was still the same Bridget, though, right?

The truth was Bridget hadnt sung since Christmas. She couldn't manage to get her voice working right. She wasnt going to start now. Still, she wished she hadnt snapped at Ron.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"Its okay. You dont have to sing if you dont want too," Ron promised.

Silence.

Awkward Silence.

_More_ Awkward Silence.

"Im sorry about Hermione," Bridget whispered.

"Its not your fault," Ron murmured, nodding slightly. "You were locked up then, right?"

"Yes, but I cant help but feel partial of the blame," Bridget confessed.

"How?" Ron asked.

"Dont you see, Ron?" Bridget asked, turning so she wasnt looking at him.

"See what?"

"Don't you see that hes going after the ones I love?" Bridget howled, looking at Ron, her face covered in hurt and despair.

"What?" Ron asked.

Lillian. Draco. Will, was a little kid the I met, and Hermione. Next it will be you, then Harry. And we all know that Harry will lose!" Bridget screamed.

"We don't-" Ron started, amazed that Bridget was no negative. He didn't remember her this way.

"Yes we do know. Remember the prophecy? Dumbledore told me about it and he knows it. I know it. You know it. Even the damn ministry knows it," Bridget hissed, lowering her voice to a whisper.

"Well, they say that but everybody knows the _Daily Prophet_ is full of-" Ron was cut off.

"No, Ron. You don't get it. You want to know why I got out of Azkaban?" Bridget didnt give Ron time to answer. "Because they knew I was their last hope."

Ron stared at Bridget, who wasnt looking at him. He had no idea things were this bad. He didnt know Bridget was this broken. Something had happened that she wasn't telling him. This wasn't just about Voldemort's upper hand in the war. Something else plagued Bridget Riddle and Ron intended to find out just what it was.

"Bridget, what happened at Christmas?" Ron asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. He still refused to believe that the attack had been Bridget's idea. There was something lese behind it, some other intentions that those everybody had believed so easily

Bridget looked at him with her blue eyes, taking in a shaky breath, deciding whether to tell him or not.

"It was a trick." she stated.

"A trick?" Ron repeated.

"Voldemort had been keeping me locked up, but one day he said he had to punish a servant, so we were going to an old servants house," Bridget explained.

"But he lied," Ron said. Bridget shook her head.

"No. We went to the Blacks'. Old Servants," Bridget laughed, shaking her head.

"But, no one there was a servant," Ron continued.

"Of course, but no one there needed to be punished." Bridget sighed.

"Then who?" Ron asked.

"I did."

"And you were," Ron breathed in realization. The truth had come crashing down on him and now he couldn't believe he'd ever doubted her before. They'd all fallen right into Voldemort's trap.

"Yes. He ruined everything. Everything I built up he ruined, knowing it would kill me inside, and it did," Bridget confessed, looking down. Ron was surprised she wasnt crying by now. But Bridget was Voldemorts daughter, and she didnt cry. It wasnt in her blood.

"Theres more," Ron whispered knowingly. There was a certain pain etched on Bridget's face that clearly said something more had happened. There was a secret that she'd kept hidden from all of them. This was the part of the story Ron had wanted to hear the most. Of course, she'd tried to explain before about the trick, but now Ron knew more important things had taken place that night.

"We got back and I yelled at him, seeing through everything. Knowing I had been fooled. We got back and I told him I love him," Bridget cried, burying her face in her hands.

"Voldemort?" Ron questioned.

"Not _him _him, Harry him," Bridget groaned, making a face.

"Harry?"

"Potter."

"No!"

"Yes. It's true too," Bridget laughed, her tone reaching some strange pitch of insanity. "Somebody should have told me about it before I blurted it to his enemy too. It would have made things a hell of a lot less difficult."

"You could have been killed!" Ron exclaimed.

"I almost was. I got away, though and told Dumbledore what happened. He believed me and I stayed at Hogwarts for the rest of the break. You know the rest," Bridget finished.

"Then we came back and Harry said-oh Bridget, Im so sorry, oh gosh, that must have been-" Ron felt….He didn't know what he felt. How awful it must have been for Bridget, hearing all those things Harry said to her…Harry wanted her dead. She _loved_ him for Merlin's sake!

"Horrible." Yes, Ron felt horrible. How could they have done that to her?

"You have to tell him!" Ron demanded. Bridgets eyes flashed.

"No!" she protested.

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"Because, in case you forgot, he hates me. And he should! Bridget yelled.

"Why? You didnt do anything!" Ron told her.

"That doesn't change the fact that I am a liar. I treat people horribly. I am more similar to Voldemort then I ever want to be. You have no idea how there is such a huge difference between who I am and who I want to be."

Ron didnt know how to respond to that. It seemed like everything was ruined and was unfixable. Still, he had to help his friend.

"You know what we have to do now?" Ron inquired.

"What?" Bridget mumbled.

"We have to get your life back," Ron said, feeling slightly smug inside. Bridget stared at him sadly, taking a while to respond.

"What if I don't know how? Ron, what if I never had it in the first place?"

"Ms. Riddle?" Dumbledore said. Bridget swung around to face the headmaster, smiling a slightly fake smile.

"Yes?" she asked sweetly.

"Would you please do the honor of singing for us?" Bridget opened her eyes wide. She turned to glance at Ron who nodded, grinning broadly. Running a hand through her hair, Bridget groaned, not being able to control her feet as she went up on stage, everyone looking to face her.

"Friends, students, Bridget Riddle," Dumbledore announced. Many students gasped, but Bridget ignored them. She racked her brain for a song, and there was only one that came to mind. She glanced around the room. She needed some motivation. Her eyes landed on Harry, who was looking up at her, sneering. There, she was doing this for him, and him only.

"Here goes nothing."

_I wanted to be like you  
I wanted everything  
So I tried to be like you_

_And I got swept away _

Bridget wished things were back to the way they were. She wished she were friends with Harry and Hermione, she wished Hermione was conscious, and was forever thankful she and Ron were friends again. She wished she could be more like Harry, good, knowing what she wanted, knowing how to get it.

_I didn't know that it was so cold _

_And You needed someone  
To show you the way_

_  
So I took your hand and we figured out  
That when the tide comes  
I'd take you away _

Bridget knew Harry was depressed too. She wanted nothing more for him to be happy. She wanted nothing more than to make him happy. She wished she could fix things, but how could she help him if she couldnt fix herself?

_If you want to  
I can save you  
I can take you away from here  
So lonely inside  
So busy out there  
And all you wanted  
Was somebody who cares _

Bridget closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them everything would just go away. She felt so lonely, and wished there was some way she could show that, but she was so accustom to Voldemort's ways…

_I'm sinking slowly  
So hurry hold me  
Your hand is all I have to keep me hanging on  
Please can you tell me  
So I can finally see  
Where you go when you're gone _

Harry was about to turn and stalk away angrily, but something about her was drawing him closer. She looked horrible. Well, she looked beautiful, but she looked like she was miserable. She was hopeful though, Harry knew that. If there was anything Bridget was it was hope. After all, it was her middle name. Harry, looking back on the past months, realized he had been miserable as well. He wanted direly to know what happened during Christmas, what she wasnt telling him. Harry thought about Sam's question. What did he want? What did he need?

_If you want to  
I can save you  
I can take you away from here  
So lonely inside  
So busy out there  
And all you wanted  
Was somebody who cares _

"Somebody who cares," Harry mumbled. He didnt need somebody who understood him, or was trying to, he needed somebody who cared. Somebody who would love him even when he was being an ass. Somebody who dealt with him when he was impossibly depressed, stuck in a black hole of despair. Somebody who cared enough to give him the hope to move on and get over it. Somebody who cares.

_All you wanted was somebody who cares  
If you need me you know I'll be there  
Oh, yeah _

Harry and Bridgets eyes locked. She sung her heart out and Harry listened. It felt so good to sing and be sung to. Harry knew it wasnt going to change anything outwardly, Harry was too stubborn for that, but inside everything was different. Something happened. And they both knew it.

_If you want to  
I can save you  
I can take you away from here  
So lonely inside  
So busy out there  
And all you wanted  
Was somebody who cares_

_  
So I can finally see  
Where you go when you're gone _

Bridget finished, taking a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. Some people clapped. Some people stared. Some people didnt even care. Bridget didnt mind them, though. She was full of bittersweet happiness and that was all that mattered. Ron ran up to her, engulfing her in a hug, but she barley noticed. Her eyes were still locked with Harrys.


	63. The Best Kind of Fights

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Harry Potter hated Bridget Riddle.

He hated everything about her.

He hated the way her blond hair fell over her shoulders. He hated the way her eyes lit up when she was happy. He hated how she would smirk and snicker at people, just to be fun. He hated how she made people so happy! He hated how she would hide the truth from everybody. He hated the way she lied. He hated how she acted so normal, when she knew very well that nothing that included her was ever normal. He hated the way she acted so innocent. He hated how she fooled everybody into believing she was. He hated how he could never understand her. She was an enigma to him. It made him so frustrated. Harry hated it. However, the one thing he hated most about Bridget Riddle was the way she made him _feel._

Though Harry hated Bridget, she made him feel strangely. He had never been driven so crazy. She made him smile. She made him happy. She was a fun, crazy person. She drove him crazy, and he liked it. Harry hated it, because he really wanted to hate her. He did, as well, it was just that sometimes he forgot. He really didn't like that she made him feel this way. It was horrible, but bizarrely enough he liked the feeling. It didnt made sense. It confused Harry and the only thing that made sense was that he hated it.

Bridget left Harry feeling confused and venerable. She was far more confusion beyond that of a girl; Harry presumed that even if she was male she'd confuse him, sending him into swirls of disastrous thoughts and ponderings. She had a personality that contrasted itself, layers and layers of grey making up her exterior.

Along with this came the emotions he felt when he was near her, or the awkward sick feeling he got when she appeared in his thoughts. It had never been like this before with somebody and Harry wondered if she hadn't cast a spell on him. It would make far more sense than this, this gut wrenching confusion and admiration. Harry hated it.

So, mostly he didn't think about it. He stuck to the black and white of hating her, leaving no room for any other emotions or thoughts. It was simpler this way, easy.

--

"There's a really cool club and you aren't a part of it-"

"Shut up, Bridget! Im trying to work!"

"Ha, you, work?" a male voice said, sitting down by the smiling blond.

"Silly boy you are, Seth."

"Shut up, Ron, since when do you care?" Seth grumbled, scowling.

"Yeah! Right!' Bridget shouted, nudging her newfound red headed friend.

"Whose side are you on?" Ron questioned, punching her in the shoulder.

"Quiet! This is a library!" Madame Pince yelled from her desk. Bridget scrunched up her nose.

"So what is Ronny doing in the library?" Bridget snickered, receiving an only appropriate glare.

"Harrys sent me here to fetch him a book. I dont know why he cant get it himself, but I guess I have nothing better to do," Ron explained, shrugging. Bridget laughed.

"He was probably just trying to get rid of you," Seth mumbled. Bridget giggled.

"Whatever. What are _you_ doing here?" Ron asked.

"Bugging Seth. Since we broke up I havent been able to do that as much!" Bridget laughed, grinning. It had only been two days since they broke up. That made it February fifteenth.

"What are you talking about? Thats all youve been doing for the past day! Youd think you would get bored of it!" Seth exclaimed, throwing his hands up dramatically.

"Oh, stop being so melodramatic. Its only okay when I am melodramatic, not you," Bridget ordered.

"Thats because shes an attention whore!" Ron whispered loudly. Bridget made a noisy gasping noise and Seth snickered.

"Ron! You think _I'm_ an attention whore? Have you looked in the mirror?" Bridget asked, hands on her hips.

"No, you broke it a month ago, remember?" Ron retorted. Bridget smirked.

"A month ago I was in jail, so ha! Youre ugly!" Bridget countered, a smug look on her face. Seth looked amused and Ron shocked and hurt. Of course in a very fake way.

"Fine. I can tell where I am not wanted. Ill just go get Harry that book and be on my way," Ron sighed, getting up from the table. Bridget frowned, rolling her eyes.

"Don't hurt yourself trying to read, Ronald," she teased. From the row in which Ron had buried himself in books a large encyclopedia came flying out, almost whacking Bridget in the head.

"Doesn't seem like I'm the one with the problem," he yelled. Bridget shook her head once poor, though the smile hadn't left herself since Ron arrived. She hadn't remembered being this happy in a while and was eternally thankful to have her friend back. Suddenly things had begun looking brighter.

"It's about time you smile like that," Seth sighed from across from her. She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "It makes me feel less bad about breaking up with you."

"Seth, I swear if you keep bringing that up I'm going to kill you. We're friends and it's okay," Bridget sighed, turning to face the doorway of the library, where Ron was waving with a large book in tow. She waved back, her grin broadening. "Everything's going to be okay."

--

Harry couldnt sleep. It wasn't much of a surprise, though, and he didn't think much of it. He was used to sleepless nights. It was almost normal for Harry to wake up at twelve with a nightmare and no intentions of rest for another eighteen hours.

Tonight, he was thinking about his future. His thoughts swam with different ways of Voldemort killing him. He knew this couldn't be healthy, and he really shouldnt be thinking about it this much, but he couldnt help it. When all you have left is your thoughts, you have to think them. Besides, Harry couldnt sugarcoat it. He was going to die. No matter how many times he went over that simple phrase in his head, it never got better. Nothing ever changed. He was going to die. Harry would try to fight it, but there seemed to be nothing he could do. Well, there was, Harry told himself he wouldnt make any binding commitments, or any new friends. Somehow it didnt reassure him as much as he would have hoped. One would be a fool to fate fight, though Harry had tried many times before. Deciding it would only make it worse to lie in bed and stare at his ceiling; Harry climbed out of bed, grabbed a sweatshirt and jeans, and quietly left the common room.

Harry Potters feet patted softly against Hogwarts grounds. He felt slightly vulnerable, having not bothered to get his invisibility cloak and Marauders Map. He jumped when he heard footsteps from around the corner. Hurrying his pace, Harry turned another corner only to collide with somebody. Rubbing his head, Harry had to squint in the dark to see the figure of Bridget Riddle rubbing her arm.

"What are you doing out at night?" he asked, his voice coming out sharper then he had planned.

"I could ask you the same thing," Bridget said, her voice loud and determined.

"Yes, but Im not a Death Eater," Harry pointed out.

"Good for you, neither am I," Bridget said, a plastic smile forming on her face. Harry turned to look at the wall, then back at Bridget.

"How can you sleep at night?" Harry demanded.

"Well, obviously Im not, but humor me. What do you mean?" Bridget teased sarcastically.

"How do you live with your lies? How can you say that you didnt betray us?"

"I didnt-" Bridget started, but Harry wouldnt hear it.

"You know, I lied when I said I wanted you dead. That cant be possible. Youre already dead to me. I was wrong to trust you, to think you were on the good side, when obviously you are not. The sad thing is I actually liked the old Bridget, but she is gone now, and I know the real you."

Bridget winced at his words. Why was this so hard? Why did he have to remind her that things were fine until she screwed up? What hurt the most was that he was right in a sense. Before Voldemort Bridget used to be normal, but now everything was changed and she seemed to always see evil in her, no matter how hard she tried to be good. Maybe thats why she and Harry fought so much. It was his destiny, his purpose in life, to fight evil, and if she was evil, then he would fight her. And that hurt. She couldnt take it anymore, and if she wasnt careful something was going to slip and Harry would find out that she _loved_ him. Bridget wouldnt let that happen.

"Harry, look, it was an accident!" Bridget tried to tell him, but was failing miserably.

"What? Did your wand slip? Harry laughed in disbelief.

"Well-yes," Bridget started, but Harry just groaned loudly.

"You must be a really evil person to lie like that! I dont understand how you can live with yourself!"

Bridget wanted to scream that she didnt, but held her tongue, knowing it was best to just let Harry rant. She was easily becoming tired of this and almost wished she stayed in bed instead of going on a run to release energy. Nothing was worth the pain that speaking with this boy was causing her. She'd rather die a thousand deaths before going through this again.

"You even lied to Malfoy, who is on your side!" Harry finished. Bridget bit her tongue and ran a hand through her hair. Tired or not, she wasnt going to let Harry win. She had to have kept some dignity, after all.

"Yea, well, Malfoy is dead," she said darkly, glaring at the wall and crossing her arms. She felt herself get heavier, the weight of her losses becoming more evident by the minute.

"Probably because he helped you out of jail!" Bridgets eyes flashed. How dare he?! About to retort about why she was let out, Bridget closed her mouth. She couldnt bear to tell him why. It was hard enough to tell Ron.

"Look, I really dont feel like fighting with you right now-" Harry cut her off.

"Thats a first," he mumbled.

"Harry, shut up, Im trying to be the bigger person and youre not helping!" Bridget complained, letting a smile peak out.

"Okay, okay, fine," Harry agreed, laughing slightly. He was reminded painfully of the girl he used to know, the one who smiled and didn't betray him. What did it matter if they were civil with each other for one night?

"So ya, lets just not fight tonight. Maybe we can aimlessly walk around for no apparent reason or something," Bridget suggested. Harry nodded and they started walking through the castle. They were silent, but comfortable; half scared to speak, bringing on another fight. It was nice not to fight, and though Bridget knew it wouldnt last long, it felt good just to be with Harry, even though it was only because they were tired. It almost felt good to fight with him too, they hadnt done that in a while. Besides, it was better than being dead to him, or not worth his time.

Bridget glanced at Harry and smiled. He looked at her and for a split second their eyes locked. He broke the connection quickly, though. Bridget ran her hand through her hair and Harry sighed.

_Here comes the awkwardness. _

"Harry?"

"What?"

"If you had to chose who got to live, me or Lillian, who would you chose?" Bridget didnt know why she had asked that. Of course it would be Lillian, but a little part of her wished it would be her. She was masochist, apparently, willing to do anything to hear his voice, even when there were little hopes it would be pleasant.

"I dont know. I think Id want both of you alive, but I think I would chose you," Harry said, surprised that he was being honest. He wasn't quite sure why this was, though, and found the question a bit unfair. Perhaps he had simply decided it was still not worth fighting fate. The faster he accepted it, the easier things might become.

"Why?"

"I dont know, to be honest. Where you surprised?" he said with a slight smile.

"Obviously."

"I guess I could have said Lillian, it would make more sense- but I just feel like that would be a lie. Unlike you, Im honest," Harry commented. Bridget didnt answer. So maybe she hadnt been really _honest,_ but what could you expect? She could hardly be truly honest with herself. Maybe shed tell Harry that somebody, along with how she really felt about him and the truth of all of her lies. Someday she would, just not today.

"So how have you been?" Harry asked.

"Why should you care?" Bridget asked. She didnt mean to sound to mean, but what was with the sudden niceness of Harry?

"I dont know. I probably shouldnt. Thats probably why I do, though," Harry joked. Apparently his mind was deciding to let his moth have free reign tonight. He wasn't sure why he was saying the things that he was, but suddenly it was like things were normal again. It was like she'd never left and they were just recovering from a small fight about socks or something or similar nature. It felt good to be like that again, though Harry assured himself it changed nothing and he would not forget what she had done.

"Wha- Oh! I get it! Ha! Okay, Im okay now," Bridget said, laughing. Harry laughed too. It sounded weird. He hadnt really laughed in a while, and mixed with Bridgets loud laugh it was just different. Not bad, but different.

"So how have _you_ been?" Bridget asked. Conversation was going well, but she didnt know how long that was going to last.

"Good. Especially without you," Harry said. Bridget shook her head.

"Harry, you wouldnt know a good thing if it came up and slit your throat!" Bridget said. She knew he was lying then, and it almost made her feel better.

"Are you calling yourself a good thing? Ya, maybe a good thing that slit my throat!" Harry said. Surprisingly Bridget just shook her head again.

"If you choose to think about it that way," Bridget wasnt retorting to a lot of Harrys mean comments, and Harry wondered why. Fighting was half the fun! Maybe she really was tired, though. Maybe things really had changed.

"How do you know, anyhow?" Harry asked.

"Because, Harry, believe me, Im just as lost as you."

A comfortable silence had taken over the halls of Hogwarts. It was late at night and it seemed that even the teachers were asleep. It seemed like the only two people awake were Bridget Riddle and Harry Potter. It was almost like it was just them in the empty halls of Hogwarts, like everybody in the world had disappeared. It was almost perfect. There was only one thing bothering Bridget, and it seemed her only choice was to voice it to Harry.

"Why would you choose me over your sister?" she asked.

"I dont know. I probably know you better," he said, not bothering to think much about it. Either way Bridget was alive and Lillian was not. Either way it wasn't fair and whether he liked it or not meant nothing.

"But if she lived you could get to know her better!" Bridget told him. It meant everything to her and Bridget could not figure it out.

"It doesnt matter. No matter what I choose its not going to change anything. You are alive and she isnt. I cant change that. So in reality it doesnt matter," Harry said. It seemed like he was bitter about it and wanted to end the subject. But Bridget wouldnt allow that.

"It matters to me!" she was raising her voice now. Her emotions her taking control and all sense of sanity was leaving. She was so frustrated!

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I just cant understand why you would choose _me!_ Are you insane? You hate me!"

"Bridget, come on, it doesnt matter," Harry argued, placing a hand on her shoulder. She ignored him.

"Stop lying to me! You said you were honest, but you honestly want me dead and her alive!" Bridget shouted.

"Be quiet, you are going to wake somebody up!" Harry ordered.

"So you admit it! I was right! Then why did you lie?" Bridget demanded.

"I didnt! I never said that!" Harry hissed.

"Come on, Harry, you cant possibly truly choose me over Lillian!" Bridget said. She was still yelling.

"I meant what I said!"

Bridget almost screamed. Why was he so persistent to win this! He knew she was speaking the truth! Both their emotions had been turned up, their faces flushed and adrenaline pumping. Words were coming without thought by now. The winds were changing, things happening that they couldn't' control.

"Why? Just tell me why!" she screamed. Harry winced.

"I dont know!" he yelled. She ignored him. So much for not fighting. They were beyond fighting now, and still over the most stupid of things. Damn Bridget for asking stupid questions and expecting certain answers. She was so insufferable, so not worth all the drama she caused.

She was livid, though, and Harry just wanted her to stop. He couldn't understand why she'd gotten so emotional over something as trivial as this. He didn't want to see that strange tortured look on her face anymore.

"Why would you choose me! I'm a liar, remember? You are out of your mind! Why would you choose me to live! I dont understand! Why-" Bridget was cut off. She was pushed against the wall, Harrys hands on her shoulders. So now he was going to get violent? His body was pressed against hers and she ignored the tingly feeling she felt as Harrys lips crashed down on hers.

She had completely lost it. Her mind went fuzzy as she immediately kissed back, her hands reaching around his neck. His hands slid off her shoulders to her waist. It was amazing. Sure, Bridget had kissed Harry before, but not like this. Last time it probably had been on impulse, defiance. She was still in Voldemort mode. Last time didnt mean anything and they both knew it. This time, though, Bridget knew it meant everything. And they both knew that.

The kiss was full of so much longing, passion, love. Bridget had never been kissed like that. She couldnt imagine anybody else kissing her like this. She couldnt imagine anyone else kissing her ever again. The only thing going through Bridgets head was Harry.

She really could kiss him forever and not mind. Relief had relaxed her muscles as her hands tangled in his hair, his own hands resting on her hips. It felt so natural-so good- to being kissing him. And he'd kissed her first! Her mind was shut down on those thoughts, her only tangible emotions being the love that flowed through her, the emotion she poured into the most passionate kiss if her life.

Because then life wouldnt be half as interesting.

Regrettably Harry broke apart from her. They were no longer touching and Harry was obviously waiting for Bridget to speak. Her chest was rising up and down with her heavy breathing. She was suddenly aware that she was only in a tank top and shorts. Any other girl would have been ecstatic. But obviously Bridget wasnt any other girl.

She'd regained control of her thoughts, finding it much easier when the boy she loved hadn't glued them together with his lips. And now Bridget was surprisingly angry. He hates her and all of a sudden hes snogging her? Her heart was telling her to walk up to him and just keeping snogging, or tell him she loved him, or something of that sort. Her head was telling her to stalk off angrily. Of course her head won. She wasn't going to be thrown around by Harry Potter, no matter how much she loved him.

"Bridget, wait!" Harry called after her. She turned on her foot.

"Why should I wait for you?" Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. He had nothing to say. "Thats what I thought."

Harry stared after her as she left. She was almost around the corner.

_Do something, Potter! _His mind screamed.

But what?

_Anything!_

"Because I love you!" Bridget turned around again and stared at him. He-what?

"What?" she choked out.

"Because I love you. I would choose you because I love you. You should stay because I love you. I love you," Harry exclaimed all in one very short breathe.. He was shocked, a little confused, but sure of what he was saying. Wow, who would have thought that he could ever love Voldemorts daughter? Not him, thats for sure. Yet, he was happy about it, jittery, exited.

Bridgets breathe was caught in her throat as she found herself walking toward Harry. He met her in the middle of the hallway. She rapped her arms around his neck and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

"Ive loved you all along," Bridget whispered in his ear. He kissed her again and once more Bridget found herself against the wall, Harrys body pressed against hers. He was the only one in the world. He was the only one that mattered. He was-and always would be- the only one shed ever love.

Harry was just asking himself why this hadnt happened before. He had never felt so much emotion towards one person. He never wanted it to end. He never wanted Bridget to leave his arms. His mind had gone fuzzy it was all he could do but keep snogging Bridget. It was amazing, wonderful. Why did he ever hate her? How could he not believe her? Why did he have to be so damn stubborn? He heard a cough. Who cared? He sure didnt. He wouldnt care if Voldemort was behind him about to Avada Kerdava his sorry little ass. Okay, maybe he would, but Harry was certain Voldemort was nowhere to be found. Somebody coughed again, louder. There was an impatient sigh, then-

"Potter! Riddle!" Harry broke apart and turned on his heal to face an angry Snape and a calm (as always) Dumbledore. Bridget grabbed his hand, obviously afraid of the look in Snapes eyes. But they were on good terms, weren't they?

"Out of bed at this hour? Snogging in the hall? Hardly appropriate, I think house points and detention will be a good punishment," Snape said, smirking. Bridget glared.

"Ah, now, Severus, I think well let this one slide. House points will be enough. Young love in this form is of course, forgivable," Dumbledore said. There was a familiar tranquil smile on his face, a sort of realization in his eyes. Bridget blushed, but Snapes anger seemed to increase.

"But the girl-" Snape protested.

"Ms. Riddle has suffered enough for her actions, wouldnt you say so?" Dumbledore asked. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Bridget wince.

"If you please," Snape muttered. They continued walking.

"Oh, and I think bed would be a good suggestion. Your own, of course," Dumbledore said with a wink. Bridget and Harry blushed.

"Right, sir," Harry croaked out.

"Right, well, that was rather awkward," Bridget said, smiling. Harry gave a slight smile, but it didnt reach his eyes.

"Whats wrong?" Bridget asked, eyes full of concern.

"We cant do this," he said softly.

"What? Snog in the hallways?" Bridget asked, hoping it was just that. She pleaded internally that he had not changed his mind. She'd already fallen in love with him, had already felt the love returned and there was no way she could survive giving that up. He couldn't erase this.

"We cant snog at all." Bridget closed her eyes and took a deep breathe. Sometimes Harry could just be so frustrating! She had to stop herself from slapping him.

"Why not?" she said angrily.

"Bridget, please dont be mad. Its just, youre who you are and Im who I am. It would never work. Im sorry," Harry said. He sounded sincere, but Bridget didnt care. He kisses her, tell her he loves her, then takes it all back? What is he playing at? How would he know if it would work or not, anyway?

"Right. Of course. My blood runs through his veins and all that nonsense. Well, guess what? So does yours," Bridget said, glaring.

"Bridget, Im sorry," Harry said, closing his eyes.

"Fine. Dumbledore is right. We should be in bed," Bridget sighed.

"Can I walk you to your room?" Harry asked. Bridget sighed.

"I'm not sure that would be the best idea."

"Im sorry," Harry said, kissing Bridget one last time.

"I know. Its just…" she trailed off.

"I wasn't lying about what I said. You know that if I could, I would," Harry assured her. Bridget rolled her eyes.

"You can. You just wont," she groaned.

"Bridget, you know what would happen. You could get killed." Bridget rolled her eyes again. "Dont tell me you dont care. Because I dont care. I care if you get killed," Harry told her.

"What? That didn't make any sense," Bridget whined. Harry shook his head and laughed.

"Gnight," he said, kissing her and then turning to walk away. He was just about to turn the corner when Bridget called out to him.

"Harry?" she asked.

"Yea?" he replied, turning around slowly. She bit her lip, ran a hand through her hair, and bounced a little on the heal of her foot, leaning against the wall.

"Just, make sure you know whats important," she pleaded. Harry nodded and turned to walk away.

What the hell did that mean? Why did she have to be so damn confusing? Harry had to figure it out, though. He knew what it meant, but this was Bridget language, and there was always some secret meaning to even the simplest of things. Luckily, Harry knew just who to go to.

Still, it was official.

Harry Potter loved Bridget Riddle.

He loved everything about her.


	64. Stupid

**Disclaimer: Potterverse belongs to Rowling**

* * *

"Ron!"

Silence.

"Ron!"

"Smorglesporff!"

Harry Potter stared at his friend in disbelief, wondering what that sort of unintelligible word meant. He'd known Ron for almost seven years now and never before had he heard that word come out of the red head's mouth. Was it some sort of food, or perhaps a nickname for somebody? Who would want their nickname to be something like that?

"Ron! Come on!" Harry pleaded once more, shaking his head and forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He really shouldn't allow himself to be distracted so easily.

"Smorglesporff!" Ron protested, waving his arms in Harry's general direction in attempt to relieve himself of the pestering friend and return to sleep.

"Get up!" Harry demanded, whacking Ron upside the head with a large pillow. Ron made a sort of roaring noise, similar to that of a lion, before sitting up, his eyes hot with anger.

"Fine! Fine! Im up! What do you want?" Ron Weasley grumbled, rubbing his eyes into focus. His red hair, though it was not normally subdued, was a complete mess, resembling a sort of bird's nest. Harry had to struggle not to snicker; he'd never much noticed Ron's hair before, being too distracted with his own, which shared similar qualities with Ron's.

"I need your help," Harry admitted. He couldn't remember being this giddy and distracted before. Was this something Bridget felt everyday and did she somehow transfer some sort of disease towards him?

"With what-wait, Oy! what time is it? Ron shouted, angrily looking about in the room, noticing the absence of light and stars that still twinkled brightly in the sky through their window.

"Four in the morning. But time is not important. I need you!" Harry exclaimed, running a hand through his unruly black locks. He squeezed his eyes shut in annoyance and anxiousness before finally adjusting his glasses, which were beginning to fall off.

"What?" Ron shouted. Harry winched, bearing no thought in mind that Ron's exceptionally loud voice might wake up the rest of his dorm.

"I did something-" Harry was cut off.

"It's probably not too terrible then. Now let me sleep," Ron said, sliding back into his covers. Harry's heart leapt with urgency as he saw Ron's eyes closing. Using the best of his seeker reflexes he pulled at the covers of the bed, ripping them away from Ron's body.

"But Ron-"

"I dont care. You're my best mate, but it's four in the morning! Well deal with it when the sun rises. Promise," Ron assured his friend with a smile. He then persisted to roll over, pulling the covers back over his shoulder and settling into bed.

"But, Ron, I kissed Bridget!" Harry cried, finally not being able to keep it quiet any longer. Ron shot up in bed, fully awake.

"You what?" he asked, the whole idea of his best friend doing anything remotely civil to Bridget sounding strange to his ears. The conversation from Valentines Day still rang strong in his head though, guilt from the way she was treated fresh in his heart.

"And then I told her I loved her," Harry continued. Ron grinned, feeling smug. He knew there was no denying the way those two felt about each other. Even if they had just been in a month long fight he knew they'd get around to falling in love eventually. He should have seen this coming from the very first day.

He was so pleased with the way that things turned out that he didn't even feel any surprise about Harry's actions. He didn't have to question his honesty or how she replied. Surely nothing else could go wrong from here. It was, after all, only Harry's ego and prejudices in the way.

"Thats great! So you're going out?" Ron questioned.

"Well-no," Harry confessed, looking down towards his feet.

"WHY THE BLOODY HELL NOT?" Ron screamed. His best friend did _not_ just wake him up at four in the morning to tell him that he'd confessed his undying love for Bridget and that they _still_ weren't together! It was unacceptable. If nothing had changed what was the point?

"Shh, Ron, Shh," Harry pleaded. "I told her we couldnt, because of you know.. her father and stuff. Then she said okay, but she told me that I should make sure I know whats important and thats what I need help with," Harry explained. Ron took a moment to comprehend what his best friend had said, then sighed in frustration. Did he really need to do _everything?_ Did he really need to do it all at ungodly hours of the night?

"Harry, you are the most stupid, idiotic, ugly, emo, anorexic, fat, stupid-"

"Ron, I get it. What is it?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Harry, Bridget _loves_ you," Ron groaned.

"Right." Harry said, raising an eyebrow.

"So you better love her back."

"Yes, Ron, weve gone over this!" Harry threw his hands up in the air, becoming impatient.

"It doesnt matter that she is Voldemorts daughter as long as you love her!" Ron told his friend.

"I know, but if Voldemort were to find out-" Harry was once again cut off.

"I don't think you get it, Harry," Ron sighed, burying his face in his hands. "Bridget loves you. She's not fooling around or anything. It's not like Cho or Sam or Seth or anybody else, okay? She's fallen in love with you-for some strange idiotic reason-and I don't think there's any turning back."

Harry blinked his eyes, staring at his friend in confusion. The words coming from his mouth sounded foreign. Perhaps Ron had picked up a different language with Hermione while Harry wasn't paying attention.

Ron, apparently, was not done, though. He was glaring at Harry with such an intense fury that Harry had to double check that it was Ron and not Draco Malfoy come back from the dead.

Besides, Voldemort already knows!" Ron shouted, finally. How could Harry have not picked up on it? He was going to have to explain everything now.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Voldemort brought Bridget to headquarters, not to hurt any of us, but to hurt her! He _wanted_ us to hate her!" Ron started, figuring if he was ever going to get through Harry's thick skull it was best to start from the beginning.

"But-Why? I still dont get it," Harry said, furrowing his brow.

"Voldemort realized that she was getting close with us, with _you._ He wanted her to forget about you and move on with her life, like it was a phase, or something. Then shed be on his side."

"But?" Harry questioned.

"It didnt work. Bridget got angry, they fought and she told him," Ron said. Harry stared.

"Told him what?" he asked. Ron groaned and shook his head. It was too early for this.

"That she loves you! Then got angry and she ran away, The End!" Ron finished. He just wanted to sleep.

"Yes, so if we were-" Harry defended.

"No! Harry, you dont get it! She risked her life! Voldemort was bloody furious and Im sure you knew it, too! He could have killed her!"

"I know! Thats why I dont want to hurt her by putting her in any more danger!" Harry exclaimed. Ron felt like hitting Harry. The things hed do for his friends.

"It's too late for that, mate. This was at Christmas. She's too far gone to go back. I don't think things will ever be the same for Voldemort and his daughter. She isn't a part of him anymore, but she still suffers because of him. Harry, you try to protect her, but you are already hurting her. Youve hurt her enough."

Harry didnt say anything so Ron kept talking, this time his voice was lower, softer, more solemn.

"If Bridget were ever going to stop loving you she would have. Youve been horrible to her, the first thing you said to her after Christmas was that you wanted her dead. You have no idea how hard she tried to push you away after that, but Harry, she really loves you, more than you probably know. You of all people should know love isnt something you can push away," Ron felt that wise feeling returning to him and that consoled him into patience with Harry.

"But what if Voldemort takes it out on everybody else?" Harry replied weekly. He was feeling very foolish now as Ron's words penetrating him, telling him all those missing pieces, the information he'd been searching for ever since the attack.

"Harry, I dont think this is a matter of what Voldemort would do. Voldemort is Voldemort and there really isnt anything we can do about that right now. Hes going to kill people and its going to be bad. I dont think it really matters. This is more of the fact that your scared, or you have a huge ego, or something stupid like that. This is about you. And it's about Bridget," Ron wasnt sure if he was right, but it sounded good to say at the time.

"So, what do I do?" Harry asked.

"Talk to her! Seduce her! I dont care!" Ron exclaimed, crawling back into bed.

"What do I say?"

"That you're a bloody idiot who would be nothing without your best friend and that you want to be with her."

"You think that would work?"

"Just talk to herm" he sighed. Harry nodded.

"Okay!" He said, turning to the door.

"Harry?"

"What?"

"Get some sleep and do it in the morning," Ron suggested.

"Oh, right. First thing in the morning," Harry said.

"Then well visit Hermione," Ron added.

"Yea, Hermione," Harry mumbled. He was surprised how easy he fell asleep. He supposed all that snogging wore him out.


	65. How True Loves Start

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Harry fiddled the hem of his sleeve as he walked down what seemed like an endless hall towards Bridgets room. His burst of confidence had faded, and now all thats left was nervous old Harry. His heart was racing, his mind running over anything and everything he could say. He had contemplated just kissing her, but right now that seemed rash and dangerous. He could always act calm and collected, but Harry knew the more he tried to more he would fail. His stomach was twisting and turning in all sort of ways as Harry tried to push negative and nervous feelings away. Ha. Fat chance.

The truth was Harry wasn't sure if he was making the right choice or not. Last night everything had been so clear to him-as clear as anything could be at this point in time. He loved her and by some rare twist of fate she loved him back. The matter of safety and the millions of reasons why they should stay apart had hindered him until Ron had nearly beat him into doing this.

Should he really be doing this, though, even if he was sure his best friend would kill him if he didn't? He was sure he wanted it, maybe even needed it; Harry hadn't felt this much emotion-good emotion-in so long, but did that mean it was the best thing to do? And if he didn't do it, could he live with himself after?

The answers lay behind the door that blocked his eyes from Bridget's body.

--

All Bridget could do was stare. She lie flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, music blaring in one ear. She was _so_ close! Harry loved her, but her bloodline stood in the way. At least he trusted her, at least he believed her. Bridget would go crazy in this bed. They should have known that had it not been Azkaban is would be this bed. Maybe it just wasnt meant to be. Maybe fate was just telling her that Harry was a bad idea. Bridget didnt want to accept that, though. Love like this wasnt something she could just push away. Of course, she had tried and failed miserably. Songs ran through her head, the only comfort she had. Moving would of course not be coming anytime soon. Maybe if she just relived last night it could come back. Bridget thought about it for a moment. Harrys lips on hers, his hands at her waist, his face when he said it. It was jus those three words. I love you. I love you. I love you. Maybe if she thought hard enough he would come knocking at her door. Ha. Fat chance.

All the same Bridget was happier than she had been in a long time. She was singing again-a habit she couldn't get rid of after Valentines Day. She was smiling again too. Even if she wasn't allowed to be with Harry it was certain Ron wouldn't leave her by her lonesome again. Plus, Seth seemed to be fairly tolerant of her, especially now that they had everything out in the open.

And Harry didn't hate her. He loved her, in fact, and even though he'd broken her heart once over last night it didn't matter. If she could only remember that he loved her…

A nock sounded at the door.

"Go-o A-way-ay!"

"It's me, Bridget, Harry," a muffled voice came from across the doorway. Bridget froze, a strange smile on her face. What was he doing there? She knew she should feel angry at him, but how could she be angry with him when she could still remember how perfect his lips felt against hers?

"But-Ok Fine!" she shouted back. Harry frowned. Did she not want to see him? Had she given up after last night. He sure hoped not, especially now that he'd come to his senses.

Bridget opened the door. Harry was painfully aware she was not dressed-only in a tank top and shorts. He's forgotten how beautiful she was, in her own way. Her hair was pulled up as she scrunched her face at the sight of him.

"Hey."

"Hi," Harry responded, blushing as he watched her run a hand through her hair, a grin on her face. Her eyes were sparkling with a familiar sense of mischief. Harry felt his stomach churn.

"Is there a reason you're here?" Bridget asked, though her voice was not hostile, just curious. It was hoarse in the morning, Harry noticed, and he found that attractive. She wasn't perfect or smooth like any other girl Harry had ever fancied. Which wasn't a lot.

"Well-um, I wanted to talk about last night," Harry muttered. Bridget nodded, her smile shrinking.

"Right." she nodded.

"We said a lot of things, and most of it was on impulse-"

"The point, Harry," Bridget commented, leaning against the door. Harry wrung his hands together. He supposed she was tired of dancing around the point, and to be honest Harry was ready to get straight to the heart of the matter as well. It was just hard to form the words in his mouth. His brain seem to have disconnected from the other parts of his body and he couldn't get the message to transfer.

"I was stupid and-" she cut him off again.

"I get it. You want to forget about it. Fine. It never happened. But did you really have to come before twelve?" Bridget started closing the door.

"No, thats not it! Wait!" Harry said, holding the door open. Bridget smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"I was stupid to say we couldnt be together. I _love_ you," he said it again! Bridgets breathe was in her throat, a smile on her face. She could live forever as long as she got to hear those words. She'd never felt this light before.

"I know," she whispered.

"I want you to be my girlfriend," Harry started. "I want to be with you. I want us to be together."

Bridget ran a hand through her hair, eyeing him carefully. There was a hint of a smile on her face, a strange rise of her shoulders and then she was on top of him.

"Yes!" she hugged him. He took a deep breathe and kissed her, feeling her smile in the kiss. Just like that, everything was right again.

Harry wasn't quite sure how it happened, but the world had shifted and all those horrible things had gone with it. With Bridget standing so close to him, smiling beautifully, it was hard to believe that there was ever a Voldemort, or that the stupid prophecy was true-how could he die when he had Bridget now?-or even that he still had potions homework to finish. Nothing could ever go wrong again.

"So you sleep in till twelve?" he asked, smirking.

"When I can. Which by the way-its seven now," Bridget glared playfully.

"Breakfast time," Harry told her, nodding.

"Give me a half hour and Ill meet you in the great hall," Bridget said. She hesitated then, using only a moment for deciding before kissing Harry again. He responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around her once more.

--

Bridget didn't think as she walked to her empty part of the table and sat down. She wasn't quite sure Harry hadn't been a dream and she was just so used to sitting alone that not a second thought was offered.

"Bridget!" her eyes looked up to meet with Harrys and she grinned. So it wasnt a dream. She walked over to him, and he nervously wrapped an arm around her. Without thinking she leaned into him, like she had been doing this for years. It felt natural to be with him, almost like their friendship had been, but better.

"Why were you over there?" Harry asked.

"Habit," Bridget said, taking Rons toast. There was no need for Harry to know just how insecure and lost she was without him.

"Hey! Thats mine!" Ron shouted. Bridget smirked.

"Now its mine," Bridget countered. Harry laughed.

"And now its mine," Harry said, grabbing it from Bridgets teeth.

"Oh, gee, that was nice," Bridget retorted.

"You did the same thing!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes, but that was _Ron," _Bridget sighed, blowing some hair out of her face.

"Harry, remind me why we wanted her back again? I'm always more hungry when she's around," Ron grumbled, searching the table for another piece of toast. Bridget and Harry exchanged glances, and then they laughed.

And it felt good.

--

"Maybe I should wait here," Bridget suggested.

"No, come on," Harry urged.

"But-"

"Shes up!" Ron yelled. Harry turned to look at his smiling friend, a grin on his face as well. Bridget smiled slightly.

"Really?" Harry asked. Ron nodded.

"Come on!" he said, dragging Harry in. At the last moment Harry grabbed Bridgets hand, pulling her in as well. She glared.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed. Harry hugged his friend.

"Glad your well," he said. Hermione grinned.

"Thanks. How long have I been out?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, just a week or so," Harry said.

"Oh, thats not bad!" Hermione said. Ron squirmed a bit.

"It was, though. Hermione, I was so afraid you werent going to wake up!" Ron exclaimed. Hermione grinned.

"Im fine, really. I promise," Hermione said. Ron kissed her. He had been waiting to do that for a while now.

"I missed you," he whispered. As he drew himself away, Harry smiled at Hermiones face. Her eyes were closed and her smile had perfected itself. She and Ron were so immensely perfect for each other. Harry should have known it from the beginning.

"What is _she_ doing here?" Hermione had opened her eyes and they had immediately landed on Bridget.

"Hermione-" Ron started.

"How did she even get out?" Hermiones happiness had turned to fury at the sight of Bridget. Harry noticed her wince. He longed to take her hand, but decided it would be better to wait until everything had fully been explained to Hermione,

"Im sorry. I told Harry-" Bridget was shaking her head.

"Dont you dare blame Harry!" Hermione screeched.

"Hermione, stop, let her explain. You just woke up, this could be unhealthy," Ron said, consoling her. Hermione scowled.

"Fine. Whats she doing here?"

"Well, we sort of made up…" Harry started, shuffling his feet.

"Made up?" Hermione questioned.

"Out." Ron corrected.

"Out?" Hermione eyebrow was raised, but Ron could sense the smirk within.

"Were going out," Harry mumbled. Bridget was breathing heavily, slightly hiding behind Harry.

"Out?" Hermione seemed to be processing things. "Why? How?"

"I love her," Bridgets stomach flopped at those words. She could never hear them enough. He loved _her._ Right, back to Hermione.

"You trust her?" Hermione asked.

"With my life," Harry assured her. Hermione nodded.

"Then I do too," Hermione didnt question anymore, causing Ron to raise an eyebrow.

"Thank you, Hermione," Harry said.

"I trust you, Harry. But if you're wrong-"

"Hes not," Bridget spoke for the first time. "Christmas was…an accident."

Hermione grinned.

"Thank God," Ron sighed, exhaling loudly. "It's over."

"Excuse me, Ron, what have _you_ had to suffered through?" Hermione snorted.

"Well I, of course, trusted Bridget from day one. And then Harry's been moping about because he's absolutely smitten with her, as he has been from day one, and then I found out she was bloody in love with him and now you're up! I was afraid I was going to have to continue going through this alone."

"You're so full of yourself," Hermione sighed, shaking her head. Ron simply grinned in return, feeling smug.

And everybody smiled.

And it felt good.


	66. I'm a Bird!

**Disclaimer: **Potterverse belongs to Rowling

It was Tuesday. Tuesday morning to be exact. It was Tuesday morning and Bridget Riddle was up. Why? She didn't know. All she knew was that she had some sort of energy she had to get rid of and right now all she wanted to do was run. Yet, Bridget also wanted to go see Harry. They had only been together two days, but it felt like so much longer. So, torn between the great outdoors and the great Harry Potter, Bridget decided the mix the two in one great and beautifully exiting morning. So, standing at the doorway of the boys dormitory, Bridget contemplated on how to wake Harry up.

It was a hard decision. Bridget didn't want to be too mean, but she wasn't one to be very nice about waking people up either. She wasn't too worried, though. Harry had a tendency to not sleep no matter how tired he was. Not that this was a good thing, but it made Bridget feel better about herself. She smiled, and glanced at Ron, running her fingers up and down his arm. His body went stiff and his eyes opened wide.

"Spider!" he shouted. Bridget stifled her laugh.

"Ron, shut up!" came the muffled voices of the boys of Gryffindor house.

"B-but I felt it!" the red haired boy exclaimed. He really was becoming annoyed with the school's constant need to wake him up at ungodly hours of the morning. It really wasn't fair

"Relax, Ronnie, it was just me," Bridget said, waving him off and walking over to Harry's bed.

"What'd you do that for?" Ron mumbled. Bridget shrugged.

"Because I can. Besides, I had to wake Harry up _somehow,"_ Bridget said, flopping down on Harry's legs. He grinned and sat up, clearly not as annoyed about waking up as his friend was.

"So? Since when does 'I want Harry' translate to 'Let's bother Ron?"

"Go back to bed, Ron. No use crying over spilled milk," Harry said. Ron obliged and turned around. He couldn't turn down an offer like that. Bridget sat up from Harry's legs and smiled at him. He kissed her good morning before she spoke.

"Get dressed and meet me in the common room," she ordered, leaving him on his own again. He nodded and Bridget left, closing the door behind her.

--

"So, what'd you want?" Harry asked, coming down the steps. Bridget grinned at him.

"I want you to run with me!" she exclaimed. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Why?" Bridget shrugged.

"Because I love you?" she said. Harry laughed, poking her in the side.

"Fine, but only because I love _you,"_ Harry said, taking her hand.

"You're going to turn into one of those soppy boyfriends, aren't you?" Bridget grumbled, taking his hand and leading him out the common room. Harry shrugged, rubbing up against her arm.

"Are you complaining?"

"Not particularly."

--

"Why do you go so fast?" Harry asked, panting. Bridget looked back at him, furrowing her brow. She'd thought she was going slow for Harry, knowing that he couldn't have ever run nearly as often as she had. Her stamina was built up and apparently his was not. Maybe he didn't even have one.

"Much practice!" she replied. Harry rolled his eyes, but had to quickly go back to focusing on running.

"Aren't you tired?" he asked.

"No, are you?" she asked. Harry's eyes went wide.

"Yes!" he exclaimed. Bridget laughed, slowing down to a walk.

"We can take a break if you want, or we can stop," she suggested.

"No, it's okay, a break will work fine," Harry said. A comfortable silence took over them. All Bridget could do was smile. Sometimes, being with Harry felt like a dream. It was strange that she'd finally gotten what she wanted. It had switched her mindset up so profoundly she was unsure if she could ever go back to the way it was before.

Before, Bridget had been set on the way her life was going to turn out. Being miserable seemed definite and those few moments of happiness were cherished. She clung to them for hope, fighting off her nightmares with glimmers of friendship.

Now, however, she had something much stronger to block off unwanted thoughts with. Being with Harry was like a permanent patronus, chasing dementors away all the time. She would be eternally grateful if she never had to see another dementor again. Bridget was rubbish at patronesses and it was only by luck that she fell in love with the boy who was best at them.

"Thanks for coming out here with me," she said. Harry smiled.

"No problem," he replied.

"Now, I'm going to help you run!" Bridget said, grabbing his hand.

"Oh boy," he mumbled. Bridget hit him playfully.

"Now, it's all in the mindset. See that tree over there?" Harry nodded. "Now, if you can just tell yourself 'I can make it to that tree,' than you'll be there. Once you get there, tell yourself you can go a little further. Just keeping pushing yourself, just keep convincing yourself you can do it. Your mind is more powerful than your body!" Bridget found herself getting exited and Harry sensed she had to get moving again.

"Okay, let's go!" he said. With that Bridget zoomed off, Harry trailing just behind her.

--

"That was fun!" Bridget yelled, plopping down on the grass. Harry lay down next to her.

"I have to admit, that was pretty interesting!" Harry said. Bridget squealed. She wondered if her bubbly attitude was annoying, but by the silly grin on Harry's face he didn't seem to mind.

"I love running."

"Yeah, I noticed!" Harry yelled.

"You know what the best part was?" Bridget asked, turning to face Harry.

"What?"

"I got to share it with you," Bridget said. Harry grinned and placed his lips on hers. She welcomed him with a smile and immediately kissed back.

"Now who's the soppy boyfriend?" he teased. Bridget glared at him in return, placing a hand on her hip.

"I am not a boy, thank you very much."

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she replied. Everything was just as it should be, everything was perfect. This was exactly how Bridget wanted it and more. The thought of Harry love _her_ filled Bridget with a feeling she could not place. It was a happy feeling, a good feeling, like nothing could go wrong in the world. It was almost like she couldn't believe she was lying next to him in the grass at 7:00 in the morning.

The feeling of doubt being overruled by the wonderful reality that he _did_ love her and she love him back. It was the feeling of having everything right again. Bridget didn't know much about it, but she did know it was wonderful' and that was all that counted.

With that thought Bridget was filled with a sudden energy; a mix of adrenaline and love, and Bridget would probably have to run another mile to wear it off.

"I feel so unhealthy!" Harry exclaimed. Bridget was brought back to reality as Harry stood up, getting ready to head to breakfast.

"I don't!" Bridget said with an innocent grin.

"I don't understand how you can do that on a daily basis," Harry said, shaking his head. Bridget shrugged.

"I'm a bird!" she shouted, leaping in front of Harry, flapping her arms.

"You're a bird!" Harry said, laughing, though he was giving her a funny look.

"Kaka! Kaka!" Bridget screamed, dancing around Harry. He smiled.

"You're insane," Harry said. Bridget returned to walking next to him.

"And you love it!"

"Whatever makes you happy," Harry said, quickening his pace. Bridget ran to keep up with him.

"Hey! That's not what your supposed to say!" she whined.

"Well, since when have I ever done anything I was supposed too?" he asked. Bridget scrunched up her face.

"Since I told you too," she ordered. Harry smiled slowly, placing a finger on his chin and feigning deep thought.

"What makes you think I'm going to listen to you?" he asked.

"Because I have the upper hand in this relationship! I wear the pants!" Bridget shouted. Harry gave her an uncertain look.

"Whatever you say, dear, whatever you say," he mumbled, wrapping his arm around her. She leaned into him and he ruffled her hair as they walked toward the castle together. Together, they were together at last.


	67. Next Topic

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

It was strange to be happy again, awkward to be able to go through a day without having a single dark thought penetrate through Bridget's mind. She knew this easy way of life wouldn't last long, but so smiled and laughed and didn't think about the future so much as she did before.

Perfection, of it could be defined, might include some of the giddy feelings Bridget experienced in the morning. Though her life was in no way perfect there were pieces of it she couldn't to cut up and store forever, saving them for when things could inevitably change and bring darkness back upon their lives.

Really, what more was there to perfection than this? It was the warmth when she woke up in the morning, the pleasant drive that then forced her to get out of bed, and the newfound energy that brought her to breakfast every morning.

It was the casual jokes between friends, followed by a light hearted nudge in the arm or peculiar wiggle of eyebrows. It was the relief felt when Hermione offered assistance on homework they didn't understand, or the bubble of amusement when Ron did something exceptionally funny.

It was the soft redness of Bridget's face when Harry's hand landed gently on her back, a protective arm guarding her from the wandering eyes that were still quick to judge and slow to forgive. It was safety that came from a hand interlaced with hers, warm and strong, if not a bit sweaty as well. It was the sweetness of a kiss, the urgency of a snog, the power of an "I love you."

It was hard to believe that perfection could ever end once it had started.

It did, though, and life went on, bringing the four friends to the entrance of the Special Effects classroom, and Bridget was thankful she'd been locked up long enough to miss _two_ of these classes. It was, perhaps, the only good thing that came out of Azkaban.

"We're really still doing this, aren't we?" she whispered in Harry's ear as they sat down. He kept a steady arm around her at all times, avoiding contact with any questioning faces.

"Unfortunately. The damn school or ministry or whoever the hell is running this place _requires_ it. Like therapy or something."

"Is that what she is, then?" Bridget snickered. "A shrink?"

"You laugh, but then she makes you share some great disastrous secret to the crowd and before you know it the whole school knows every damn thing about you," Harry seethed, his eyes darkening behind his glasses.

"Love, the whole school already knows every damn thing about you," she pointed out, scooting away as he hit her with a glare. Though she knew he was only joking-his anger was temporary now-she still hated the way he could glare at her, sending her down on few notches on her "confidence" scale. It was really too much of a reminder of the way things had been before and that wasn't a place Bridget was intent on going back to.

The anxiousness evaporated, though, as Harry's glare softened and his pulled her close to him again, pressing his lips against her forehead. It was depressing the way he made her blush and her head was quickly buried in his chest, a little nook that was perfect for her to fit in.

"You're really strange sometimes, you know," he commented offhandedly.

"Just not pleased to be here, that's all. Lots of a disastrous secrets I'm not up for admitting, yeah?"

"I think I can sympathize."

"Well, last week we finished talking about expressing ourselves; this week we're going to go into background. Today we're starting with family," Esmeralda announced, dragging the classes attention towards herself.

"How random is this class?" Bridget whispered, leaning over to Ron.

"Hey! I like this class!" he defended.

"Why?"

"It's an easy O!" Ron exclaimed. Bridget noticed Hermione shooting him a disappointing look and rolling her eyes.

"I see," Bridget said, raising an eyebrow.

"Mr. Weasley, why don't you start!" Esmeralda said.

"Now how do you like it, eh Ron?" Bridget taunted, waving a hand in his direction.

"Be quiet, Bee, we're going to have to hear about his _family_ now."

"And?"

"He's got about five hundred relatives," Harry snickered, mercilessly laughing at his best friend, who was now the same color all over. It was like magic, and Bridget wondered if one of those family members was a chameleon.

"Shut up," Ron mumbled, walking up to the front. "What do I say?"

"Anything, dear! Tell us about each member of you family!" Esmeralda said, grinning.

"Well, uh, there's Bill. He works for Gringotts. He's married, though; to Fleur. Then there is Charlie. He works with dragons. Some of you might have met him in fourth year."

"What happened in fourth year?" Bridget whispered to Harry. She couldn't fathom what a dragon tamer was doing at Hogwarts.

"First task was dragons, remember?"

"Not particularly, but alright."

"I suppose there is Percy, but we don't like to talk about him. He works for the ministry," Ron continued, shuffling his feet. "Of course there is Fred and George. You guys all know about them, though. They have a shop in Diagon Alley. I guess that leaves Ginny. She's in sixth year, so you can find her if you like. She's not hard to miss with her red hair."

I few people laughed at this as Ron went to sit down back down and let his face turn the pale color it was supposed to be. Hermione patted him on the back encouragingly and Bridget wondered just how it was possible to have so many siblings. She'd never met the Weasley's before, which was strange, because the way Ron described them it seemed as if they were hard to miss.

"Ms. Granger, you next!" Esmeralda said. Hermione bit her lip and walked up front.

"Well, because Ron forgot his parents," Ron blushed at this, "I'll start with mine. They're dentists and muggles. There isn't much else to say about them. They've welcomed magic and are interested. I'm lucky to have them," Hermione said, sitting back down. Esmeralda, who was never one to push information, called on Seth next.

"My parents work in the department of magical enforcement. I guess they're pretty cool. I've never really thought about it. Uh, I have an older sister and she is a healer. I think that's awesome because she helps people. So, I'm really proud of Ellie; that's her name." Seth nodded and sat back down. Esmeralda looked impressed. She smiled at Seth, her eyes twinkling.

"This is ridiculous," Bridget complained, running a hand through her hair. "Families are boring."

"I do feel a bit left out, don't you?" Harry sighed. Bridget frowned; she hadn't thought about what _they_ would say. Sure, it was easy and boring for Ron and Hermione, but what of those who'd lost their family? Or didn't really have much of a family to begin with?

"Neville, your turn!" Esmeralda said. Harry's face snapped up to look at Neville, who looked very awkward standing up in front of everybody. Harry felt bad for him. He shouldn't have to talk about what happened. Then again, neither should Harry or Bridget.

"What's up with you?" Bridget asked, nudging Harry.

"You'll see."


	68. Broken

**Disclaimer: Potterverse belongs to Rowling**

* * *

"Neville, come on, don't be shy," Esmeralda said, hoping to get something from Neville.

Bridget honestly didn't know why Neville was so nervous about sharing. She knew the boy to be timid, but wasn't family supposed to be harmless? What was causing the boy to shake in fear, his eyes darting about the classroom and never once focusing.

Esmeralda was becoming annoyed at his silence and Bridget wondered if she would mark him down for it. Could it be possible for somebody do fail Special Effects? The class was tedious, but as Ron said before, an easy class to pass. It would be quite depressing if one failed it.

"Well," Neville blushed, "I live with my Gram. I guess she's okay. There isn't much to say about her," Neville finished. Esmeralda looked displeased.

"That's all? What about your parents?" She asked, feeling confused. Neville's face fell.

"He-"

"Actually, you know, I think it's my turn. Neville doesn't need that much talking time. Besides, I have more to talk about," Harry said, getting up. Bridget snorted. Harry shot her a warning glare that resulted in Bridget scowling. However, it sent more waves of confusion through her.

Harry might have a hell lot more to talk about than Neville, but none of that concerned family. Plus, Harry was never one to grab the center of attention. They both knew he would have rather been forgotten about during this particular lesson.

"Thanks, Harry," Neville muttered, sitting back down.

"Uh," Harry started, feeling awkward. He almost regretting doing that, but knew that Neville wasn't ready to talk about his parents. Plus, what was Harry going to say that people hadn't heard? He gazed upon the class and saw Hermione smiling helpfully towards him.

"Go on," she mouthed.

"I had parents at one point; er, and apparently a sister. I don't know much about them, though. I know my dad was quite the trouble maker and I know my mom hated him for a while before they got married. Lillian was hidden for most of my life, but I had grown to love her in the few months I knew her.

"I guess I had a godfather, but I only knew him for a few years due to the fact that he was a convicted murder. So I lived with my Aunt and Uncle. They're muggles. I have a cousin who liked to beat me up. Then he found out I was a wizard and now all my living family is scared of me," Harry finished. He had said all of this very fast and his face had become red by the end. The class didn't seem to notice, however. They were all aware of Harry's past.

"That's very..." Esmeralda trailed off. Bridget could almost tell she regretted this section of her class. Crossing her arms, Bridget raised an eyebrow at nobody in particular. Harry wasn't looking at her and Ron and Hermione were still concerned over Neville and whatever secrets lay there.

"Actually, until I came to Hogwarts I didn't much know what family meant," Harry continued and this time his voice was louder and more confident. It drew the attention of the class flawlessly, each student wondering what else the great Boy Who Lived had to say.

"Whatever do you mean, Mr. Potter?" Esmeralda asked with a flip of her hair and a smile.

"I mean, I guess when people think family they think parents, and I suppose I could go off about how mine are dead, but…" Harry paused, wincing. "I think I found family pretty easily here with my friends. And even Mrs. Weasley sometimes treats me like a son," Harry paused, sharing a laugh with Ron, who had made a sort of displeased face. "The point being that I recently learned that family doesn't always have so much to do with blood as it does the people who you love."

"Historic words, Mr. Potter," Esmeralda exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"You talk so pretty," Bridget complimented as he returned to his seat, and though her tone was teasing his words had sounded beautiful to her ears, as if he'd spoken them just for her.

"Great job, mate," Ron agreed, clapping him on the back and Hermione nodded in agreement.

The class continued on like this, each student sharing a bit of their family, what their parents did, how annoying their siblings were, and all sorts of things you could say.

Bridget wasn't so willing to relax yet, though. She knew she'd be forced to speak and that wasn't something she was sure could do yet. She kept her arms crossed, covering her body and holding herself together. Harry may be able to accept that his family wasn't blood related, and even if everything he had said was true, Bridget couldn't seem to register that with her emotions. How, exactly, was she supposed to explain the kind of family that kills people?

"Ms. Riddle?" Esmeralda called. "You're the only one left."

"You'll be fine," Harry promised, whispering in her ear. His breath was hot on her neck, sending chills down her spine as Bridget cleared her throat, sitting up.

"My dad is a killer. What else is there to say?" she paused, waiting to make sure nobody's reaction was horrible. They were all staring at her curiously, but nobody had screamed yet so Bridget took that as a good sign.

"Is there anything else you'd like to add?" Esmeralda pressed.

"He's not my dad, really," Bridget blurted. "He may have contributed sperm, but it isn't like he ever did any 'dad' things. He ordered me around, forced me to behave, but it wasn't even like he was around for half my life anyway," Bridget stopped, closing her eyes and inhaling.

"You don't have to continue," Esmeralda told her, frowning slightly.

"I don't have a family, not in the literal sense of the word."

"Thank you," Esmeralda sighed and Bridget shut her mouth and returned to her stubborn silence.

She just wanted the day to be over and for her to never have to talk about Voldemort or family again.


	69. Sick and Dirty

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

"That was really noble of you, Harry," Hermione complemented with a proud grin. Harry shook his head in embarrassment, adjusting his glasses.

"I knew Neville wasn't ready to talk about it. I suppose whatever I said people had already heard," Harry said, his cheeks tinted red.

"Still, it can't be easy for you to talk about either," Hermione said, nudging Harry. He laughed.

"Well, thanks Hermione. It was really nothing, though."

Bridget fiddled with her fork, staring at the food before her as she tried not to listen too hard to the conversation. She couldn't eat. It was back. The feeling was back. She felt so sick with herself. She felt unclean. She wanted to just crawl in a hole and soak in it, but Bridget knew that would only make things worse.

How could she have been like that? She made a huge deal about her own problems while Harry helped Neville. She was being melodramatic and selfish. Bridget hated herself. She had felt like this so many times before, especially when she was in Azkaban. She thought that now things were normal again it would go away. How come it wasn't gone? Bridget buried her head in her hands, her fork dropping with a clunk. She felt a warm arm wrap around her.

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," Bridget said, her heart bubbling with love for the boy sitting next to her.

"Don't lie. You look sick," Harry said, rubbing her arm lightly. She frowned. She hadn't lied to him _again_, had she? Bridget was so sick of lying, so tired of making things difficult and being stupid.

"I just-it's nothing. I'm just over thinking things," Bridget mumbled, picking up her fork and taking a bite of mashed potatoes. She gulped, swallowing the mush and giving Harry a hopeful grin. He raised an eyebrow.

"Bee-"

"See? I'm fine," Bridget assured him. Harry smiled, kissing her cheek and turning back to his conversation with Seamus Finnegan and Hermione. Ron, on the other hand, was giving Bridget incredulous looks.

"You two aren't already fighting?" he asked. Bridget froze, her eyes as wide as golf balls. She glanced at Harry who was laughing at something Hermione said. Bridget took a sharp breath. She didn't feel like she was fighting with Harry. Sure, she might not be filling him in on the exact details of her brain, but what did that matter anyway?

"No, I don't think so. I hope not," she said, whispering the last part. "Does it seem like it?"

"I'm not sure. He did seem a little annoyed with you in Special Effects.." Ron trailed off. Bridget looked at Harry again. Sam and Ginny had now come to talk with the group. A hand flew to her heart. She hadn't noticed anything out of the usual during class, but perhaps Ron had picked up on something she hadn't. Maybe Ron was better at recognizing it when Harry was upset.

"He can't be.. I mean things were going so well!" Bridget exclaimed.

"Look, I don't think anything is wrong. I'm just making sure," Ron said. Bridget nodded. "Well let's go engage ourselves in conversation!"

"That was a very intellectual thing of you to say, Ronald."

"Why thank you, Bridget. I do try my best," Ron said. Bridget burst into a fit of giggles, the sick feeling long forgotten. Nothing was wrong; she was just overeating. Besides, it was hard not to be happy when Ron was giving her such funny looks.

"Yes, don't we all? Now how do you like this tea? I think it is a bit bland," Bridget said, continuing her attempt at a civil conversation.

"Hmm," Ron said, sipping his butterbeer. "Yes, I think it is." Bridget frowned.

"Well, I'll have to talk to Harry about that. I keep telling him to get rid of that maid," Bridget said, a look of disgust on her face.

"What?" Harry asked, turning around at hearing his name.

"That _maid_ dear! Get rid of her!" Bridget ordered, putting extra emphasis on her English accent. She didn't know exactly when she'd decided to role play with her friends, but Ron was certainly an excellent accomplish and Harry looked cute when he was confused.

"What?" Harry asked, his face portraying pure confusion. Bridget tutted and shook her head.

"I don't know what I am to do with him. I do think he likes the maid, though. She's said some very kinky things to him," Bridget whispered. Ron snickered.

"Scandalous!"

"Guys, what's going on?" Hermione asked.

"Ah, good afternoon Ms. Granger, or should I say Weasley. When _is_ that wedding?" Bridget asked. Ron gasped.

"Mrs. Potter! I'm not proposing till _next week,"_ Ron declared, nodding.

"Oh, quite sorry. Ignore me, Hermione. It's all just hopeful thoughts," Bridget said, winking. Hermione blushed and Harry still looked completely confused.

"Uh," Harry said, mouth open.

"Harry, dear, close your mouth. It's impolite. Now what about getting rid of that skank of a maid?" Bridget asked, raising as eyebrow.

"What maid?" Harry asked.

"You mean you got rid of her?" Bridget asked, eyes sparkling. "That means rewards for you tonight!"

"And this conversation is suddenly not to civil anymore…" Ron said, eyeing Harry, who was sitting there looking shocked.

"Now close your mouth," Bridget ordered again.

"Can we please stop having this conversation?" Hermione asked. Bridget pouted.

"Fine."

"That was the most awkward conversation I have ever had," Harry said, eyes wide. Bridget giggled, kissing him lightly.

"Get used to it," Ron said, looking at Bridget. "Now you've got her to deal with!" Bridget gasped.

"Ron! That was mean!" she said.

"What are you going to do about it? Ron asked. Bridget smirked, flicking mashed potato at his nose. Ron glared, throwing a roll at her. This continued for a few moments before somebody's aim got off and food was being thrown everywhere, each student determined to retaliate.

"Hide me!" Bridget squealed, hiding behind Harry.

"Why?"

"Ron's going to eat me!"

"Why hide behind me?" Harry asked, glaring.

"Because you're my wonderfully handsome, strong, brave boyfriend!" Bridget said, kissing where his cheek met his neck.

"Thank you. I love you too," Harry said, laughing.

"I FOUND you!" Ron screamed, flicking food at Bridget.

"Ah! I'm dirty!"

"That's not much of a change," Ron chortled, starting another quarrel between him and Bridget. Harry, however, had gone white and was staring in front of them with a look of shock.

"Looks like we've got detention, mate."


	70. Old Face, New Lies

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Detention with Snape was never anything to look forward too. Yet, one can not expect anything less after starting a food fight in the great hall. Being brave of heart and overall very honorable, Bridget took the blame, landing her one big, fat, ugly detention in the dungeons. It was such a sob story. To make things worse she had to spend the whole three hours with some Slytherin kid she didn't know. Of course, this was favorable over the last time she'd had detention with Snape. Bridget would take a stranger over Voldemort any day.

"Ah, Ms. Riddle, glad you could make it," Snape said, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement. The Slytherin kid whipped his head around and gave her a look. Bridget titled her head to the side, but in the end decided to ignore him and move on.

"This is Aiden Mason. Mr. Mason, this is Bridget Riddle," Snape said, giving the two students one of his ugliest smirks. "Today you will clean the cauldrons." He paused, "without magic." Bridget rolled her eyes, feeling there should be some sort of dramatic gasp. She was too lazy for that, though. Bridget grabbed a rag and trudged over to the cauldron. The Slytherin kid followed her lead, not saying a word. He was actually quite handsome. He had that ever so shaggy brown hair. His eyes were a deep chocolate brown as well. He was tall and muscular and it was obvious every girl would die to be with him. Well, almost any girl.

"What did you do?" Bridget asked, glancing up at him.

"I talked back, of course," the boy said. Bridget laughed, though she wasn't sure why. She was feeling obvious attraction to him and couldn't figure out what purpose there was behind it. Of course, it was expected that this Aiden Mason be a heartthrob with the way he looked, but there was also that familiarity about him that sent Bridget into a soft sense of ease.

"Of course?" Bridget questioned, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged and she rolled her eyes. Just because she felt attracted to him didn't mean she trusted him.

"So I hear you're going out with Potter," he said casually. Bridget froze, Harry's face flickering in her mind for just a split second. She tried not to grin like an idiot, but answer calmly.

"Yea, so?" she asked, like it was no big deal. Well, of course it was a big deal. So now she was drawn to the boy and he was making her put on a fake mask, making her act like she didn't care that she was going out with the love of her life. There was something strange going on.

"Nothing, just wondering. I mean, it is _Potter,"_ the boy said, almost spitting out his name. Bridget had to remind herself he was a Slytherin.

"Obviously," she replied. The boy was silent for a while. She was surprised he didn't bring up her father, but maybe it wasn't a big deal to him. She sure hoped it wasn't. Then again, Bridget was unsure about just how many Slytherins followed him.

As Bridget moved on to her second cauldron she noticed something about Aiden. Whether it was a glint in his eye, the way he carried himself, or the way he blew hair out of his face every few minutes, he looked familiar. Bridget frowned; where would she have known him?

"What are you looking at?" he asked.

"You," Bridget replied, surprised she had been so blunt.

"Why?"

"What did you say you're name was, again?" Bridget asked.

"Aiden," he said. Bridget swore she knew that name. She knew she had a brother by the name of Aiden somewhere out there-her twin, in fact-but Voldemort had ordered they be separated long before Bridget was old enough to remember anything about him. Together, there powers would range higher than his own and so in fear Voldemort had torn them apart.

Bridget had not thought about that in a long while, though, because her brother was not somebody she could miss. She didn't know him and the whole idea of having another spawn of the devil made her sort of sick.

"Where have I seen him before?" she whispered to herself.

"What was that?" Aiden asked.

"Nothing, just wondering when this torture will be over," Bridget said, laughing.

"Soon, hopefully," Aiden said, joining in with Bridget's laughs.

"Snape sure has his ways of making detention ten times worse."

Bridget laughed, running a hand through her hair.

"So, why'd you start the food fight?" Aiden asked. Bridget rolled her eyes. Of course he was going to ask about that.

"I'm don't know. It just kind of started. You kind of had to be there to understand," Bridget said, remembering her conversation with Ron.

"I see," Aiden said, grinning. It was silent after that. Maybe she had scared him a bit. Maybe he just didn't understand how her friendship with the trio was. Bridget had to talk to him some more, though. She didn't know why, but she had to. This was a mystery Bridget did not intend to just let sit.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Bridget asked. She immediately regretted it. What kind of question was that? It was a stupid one at the most.

"Nope, why?" Aiden said, finishing up. Bridget mentally scowled. He just _had_ to ask, didn't he?

"I'm just wondering," Bridget said, deciding to just keep her mouth shut from now on. Unfortunately, Bridget was never good at that.

"Lucky, you finished early," Snape said, walking in after a few more moments of awkward silence and strange glances. Bridget rolled her eyes. They were five minutes early. "I suppose you can leave early, then," Snape finished. Bridget sighed in relief. Finally! It was over!

"Whoosh!" Bridget yelled, exiting the potions room. She looked back at Aiden, expecting him to laugh and hug her. Bridget shook her head. Why would he do that? He didn't know her. Still, Bridget had _definitely_ seen him from somewhere, no matter what anybody said.

"Why are you shaking your head?" was all Aiden said.

"You wouldn't understand," Bridget mumbled, deciding not to tell him.

"Why not?"

"I just- I feel like I know you. I just don't know from where," Bridget said, surprised she told him that. Great, now he was going to think she was crazy. Well, she was, but he didn't need to know that.

"Well, you probably think that, because you have seen me before," Aiden said, stepping closer and taking her hand. Her eyes linked with his and just like that Bridget Riddle knew who Aiden was. She was shocked and ashamed she didn't see it before. How could she have forgotten him? How come she didn't just admit it before, right when she subconsciously thought it?

--

Harry was feeling gracious that night and decided to go greet Bridget after her detention. He grabbed his cloak, tip toeing down the corridors and towards the general potion room area. He was just walking when he heard her laugh. Harry shook his head, letting out a small chuckle. She was insane, completely mental. She was probably laughing at something that happened yesterday. Yes, Bridget was that type of person.

Harry was about to jump out of the shadows, turn the corner, and surprise her when he heard another laugh. This one was deeper and defiantly male. Harry wiggled his eyebrows. It defiantly wasn't Snape, so who would she be laughing with? Soon Bridget and mystery boy walked into view. Harry was thankful for the invisibility cloak as he pressed against the wall, letting them pass so he could follow them. He saw the boy's face. He was tan with long brown hair and deep brown eyes. Harry scowled, immediately not liking him. What was Bridget doing with him anyway? Harry noticed they had stopped laughing and walking. The boy was holding her hands as they stared into each others eyes. Harry felt a jealous rage began to rise in him. What were they doing?

"I really missed you, Aiden. When you left it was horrible. I didn't know if you were dead or alive or what!" Bridget exclaimed, closing her eyes. Harry could tell she was reliving a painful memory. So they knew each other?

"I'm here now, though. I'm fine," the boy said, wrapping his arms around Bridget. Bridget, he was touching Bridget. Bridget was _Harry's_ girlfriend, not this stranger's. Harry felt his anger bubbling as she hugged back, holding him as if she never wanted to let go.

"I'm so glad," Bridget said, letting go of him. "How did the Mason's treat you?" Bridget asked as she started walking again.

"They were great. I'm lucky. It would have been so much better if you were there, though," Aiden said. Bridget nodded.

"I wish he would just leave us alone. He takes away everyone I love. I mean, you were gone when he was barley around!" Bridget said. Aiden nodded.

"I know. I understand. You know I do," he said.

"I know, Aiden. That's what I love about you. You understand everything and anything about me like nobody else," Bridget said. Harry had to stop himself from hitting both of them. That's what she _loved_ about him? Oh, but it got worse.

"I missed you so much, Bridget. I missed everything about you," Aiden said. Bridget hugged him again.

"I know Aiden. I missed you and I-I love you," Bridget said softly.

"I know. I love you too," Aiden said, kissing her on the cheek. They stood there for a few more seconds before breaking apart and walking again. Harry had had enough. He was careful not to be seen as he walked past them. As soon as he was out of their range he ran as fast as he could back to the common room.

How could she? Bridget Riddle had played him again. She fed him all this bullshit about loving him and risking everything for him. It was all another lie, though. She lied to him. She lied to Ron. She lied to Hermione. He would have put his life in her hands and trusted her to the end, but that was all a lie. She was _cheating_ on him!! She was a fifthly lying slut! She was nothing but lies and Harry hated himself for believing her!

Why did he ever have to meet her? He was angry at Bridget. He was angry at Ron. He was angry at Hermione. He was angry at Voldemort. Yet, most of all, he was angry at himself. He ran into the common room, taking off his cloak. He ran to his room.

"Harry, what are you doing up?" Ron asked, rubbing his eyes.

"She's nothing but a liar!" Harry hissed, throwing himself into bed.

"Who?" Ron asked.

"Bridget! Now don't talk to me!" Harry yelled, pulling himself under the covers. Desperate for some sleep, Harry shut his eyes as tight as he could. Maybe he would wake up and have been dreaming. He would wake up and that would have never happened.

Harry opened his eyes wide. It was still dark, Ron was still confused as hell, and Bridget was still cheating on him. She lied to him. She betrayed him. The worst part was, he still loved her.


	71. Misunderstanding

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Everything was perfect.

Bridget was finally happy. She had friends. She had Aiden. She had _Harry. _Nothing could be better than this.

"Hey!" Bridget said, grinning as she walked into the Gryffindor common room.

"Hey Bridget, you look pretty happy this morning," Ron said.

"I know. It's such a concept," Bridget giggled. And it was.

"How was detention last night?" Hermione asked.

"It was wonderful. Snape's a great kisser," Bridget joked, twirling her hair.

"Ew!" Ron said, making a disgusted face.

"Speaking of my detention, there is somebody I want you to meet. Where's Harry?" Bridget asked. Ron's smile dropped.

"He's sleeping. He came back pretty angry last night. He said some stuff about you, too. Did anything happen?" Ron asked.

"No, I didn't see Harry last night," Bridget said, chewing her lip. He'd mentioned something about meeting up with her after detention, but she'd never found him. Figuring he was just tired, Bridget shrugged it off.

"Oh, well, I'm sure it's nothing," Ron assured her, smiling encouragingly.

"What did he say?" Hermione asked.

"Not much. He said that she lied and then snapped at me," Ron said, eyeing Bridget. She raised her hands.

"I didn't do anything," she said, shaking her head. "I swear. It was detention and then bed."

"I wonder what could be wrong," Hermione said, just as Harry walked down the steps. Ron was right; he looked horribly angry.

"There you are, Harry! We've been waiting for you for like ages!" Bridget said, hoping to cheer him up.

"Don't talk to me," Harry said, a hate in his voice Bridget recognized all too well. Bridget's breathe caught in her throat. Something was wrong.

--

Everything was ruined.

Harry frowned, getting out of bed. He had to struggle to keep himself from thinking about his girlfriend.

"Correction. Ex girlfriend," he muttered. Harry quickly got dressed and walked downstairs to see Bridget talking animatedly with Ron and Hermione, as if nothing was wrong. Fury erupted in his body, a steady glare replacing the mere annoyance on his face. How could she just sit there and smile when everything was so horribly wrong?

"There you are, Harry! We've been waiting for you for like ages!" Bridget said, bounding over to him.

"Don't talk to me," Harry said, a hate in his voice Bridget recognized all too well. Bridget's smile slowly faded and she struggled to find her words. What had happened to cause this? She knew Ron had mentioned something about him being annoyed, but the look he was giving her reminded Bridget of the way things were before…She refused to go back to that place.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Bridget asked, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"You. You're nothing a but a liar. It's even worse that I believed you yet again, you slut!" Bridget pushed her distress back, letting the anger boil in side of her.

"How dare you call me that?" Bridget hissed. "I've lived through you calling me lots of names, but…"

"If the shoe fits," Harry retorted, crossing his arms.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bridget said, shaking her head.

"Don't lie. I saw you with him. 'Oh, Aiden! I love you! I missed you!" Harry mocked, his voice much higher than normal. "You're nothing but a lying, cheating, slut!" Harry finished. Bridget laughed, shaking her head.

"What was that?" she asked. He had to be joking. This was some twisted dream because there was no way Harry was serious.

"You heard me."

"Don't you ever call me that again," Bridget ordered, snarling. She turned around, preparing to walk away. There was no use dealing with Harry when he got like this. His anger was stubborn and even if she tried to explain he wouldn't listen. Once he saw things one way there was no room for anybody else's opinion.

"_Slut_," Harry hissed, teasing and taunting her. "You sit here and say you love _me,_ but as soon as the sun sets your back playing with all your Death Eater friends-"

Bridget turned on her heal to face him again. She didn't even have to think before her hand came crashing down on his cheek.

"You, Harry Potter, are nothing more than a stupid, arrogant, prat," Bridget said, before stomping out of the common room.

Bridget ran all the way back to her room, full of anger and despair. The fight was over something stupid and they were both out of hand. She should have never slapped him. Still, he shouldn't have said those things about her. It was just a big misunderstanding.

"Hey Bridget, what's up?" Aiden asked, seeing her sitting in front of her door.

"Nothing," Bridget said, sighing.

"Doesn't look like it. What happened?" Aiden asked.

"Nothing, Harry and I just had a disagreement. That's all. Let's go to breakfast," Bridget said, running a hand through her hair. Aiden shrugged, helping Bridget up before they both walked down to the Great Hall.

As Bridget and Aiden walked in Ron waved them over. Hermione gave Ron a questioning look, but Harry just stared at his plate. Bridget winced. She could see the red tint on his cheek from where she had slapped him.

"Hey Ron," Bridget said, sitting down across from him.

"Hey, who's that?" Ron asked. Bridget smiled, glancing up at Aiden.

"This is Aiden. My _new_ boyfriend," Bridget said, glaring at Harry. He looked up, glaring right back.

"Really, now?" he asked.

"Yea," Bridget said, smirking.

"What the hell?" Aiden muttered, frowning. "This is nonsense."

"Told you she's a liar," Harry muttered before returning to his food. Bridget laughed and ignored Harry.

"This is Aiden, my _brother,"_ Bridget explained, crossing her arms smugly.

"Brother?" Hermione asked.

"Yup. You're jealous," Bridget said. Aiden playfully hit her.

"Well, uh, nice to meet you," Hermione said, shaking his hand. Aiden was hesitant, but took it, giving her a small smile.

"That's Hermione and this is Ron," Bridget said, pointing to Ron who gave a small smile. Aiden nodded in acknowledgement.

"Sweet," Aiden said, then he turned to Harry.

"You're Harry, right?"

"Sure," Harry mumbled. With that Aiden's fist hit Harry's nose. Bridget and Hermione gasped.

"What was that for?" Harry asked, getting up.

"I don't know what you did to my sister, but I swear if you ever even look at her again there will be hell to pay!" Aiden said, glaring.

"Aiden, stop it. I'm older than you and….Harry's fine," Bridget pleaded, wincing. He definitely didn't deserve that hit.

"Only by a few minutes," Aiden protested, but the chance for the argument to be continued was lost as Harry stood and retaliated, hitting Aiden back.

"It's none of your business what I do with Bridget," he said.

"Of course it is; she's my sister!" Aiden yelled, continuing the heated fight. By now Harry and Aiden had blocked out all other voices and were focused on beating each other to the pulp. Bridget buried her head in her hands.

"STOP!" she yelled, trying to break Aiden away from Harry. They didn't listen, though.

"Boys! Stop now!" Dumbledore's booming voice said. They immediately stopped.

"Sir, he started it-" Harry started.

"Oh, shut up Harry. Don't be such a suck up," Bridget said, glaring.

"Now, now. Whatever quarrels you have can be settled in more civilized ways then this. Mr. Potter and Mr. Mason, detention," Dumbledore said. The boys nodded as he left.

"Wait, if you're Bridget's brother then why aren't you a Riddle?" Ron asked.

"I was adopted. He sent me away," Aiden said, shrugging.

"He liked me better, damn him," Bridget groaned, covering her face with her hands. Everything was such a mess.

--

Harry sat in the common room, listening to Ron and Hermione bicker. It was so dreadfully cute, actually.

"Ron, stop being so stupid!" Hermione shouted.

"Only when you stop being such a know-it-all!" Ron shot right back at her. Harry laughed.

"Come on, you guys aren't married yet!" he said. Hermione gave him a stern look.

"Oh, be quiet Harry. You aren't any better," she retorted.

"That's different," he mumbled.

"No it isn't. You're fighting over her _brother,"_ Hermione said. "It's like me throwing a fit over Ginny."

"She has a point there," Ron mumbled.

"Thank you, Ron," Hermione said.

"She slapped me!" Harry exclaimed.

"So she has some things to apologize for too," Ron shrugged. "I think that, perhaps, that is the way most things work."

--

"Look, look, LOOK!" Bridget yelled, pointing to a tentacle that had emerged out of the lake.

"So?" Aiden asked.

"So it's awesome and you're just jealous," Bridget said.

"Of a squid?"

"Yes."

"Bridget?"

"Yes?" Bridget asked, turning around to see Harry.

"Can I uh, talk to you?" he asked, glancing at Aiden.

"Talk."

"I meant alone," Harry said, glaring at Aiden then.

"Anything you can say to me you can say to Aiden," Bridget said.

"Fine. I came down here to apologize, but obviously you don't want to hear it so I'll just leave," Harry said, turning around.

"Harry! Wait!" Bridget yelled, getting up to run after him.

"What?" he asked, turning around.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have slapped you," Bridget said, looking down.

"Yea, well. I should have trusted you," Harry replied, shrugging.

"No, Harry, It's alright. I wouldn't have trusted me either," Bridget said, laughing a bit.

"I still shouldn't have called you a slut," Harry said.

"No, but I forgive you," Bridget said. Harry laughed, engulfing her in a hug.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Harry."

"So, I think Aiden's going to murder me," Harry said, taking a deep breath as he let go of Bridget.

"He shouldn't have hit you. I think he's making up for lost time, but come on. You can meet him officially now!" Bridget exclaimed, dragging Harry over to Aiden. Aiden raised an eyebrow as they bounded over.

"Aiden, this is Harry, my boyfriend," Bridget said, nodding.

"Really?" he asked, sarcastically. Bridget nodded.

"Yup."

"Listen, Aiden, Uh, sorry for hitting you," Harry apologized.

"Right back at you," Aiden said, nodding.

"Oh! LOOK! The _squid _is back!"

--

"SNAPE!"

"Yes, master?" Severus replied calmly.

"What do you mean Bridget and Aiden _met?"_ Voldemort hissed.

"They had detention together, sir. They figured it out," Snape said.

"First you allow Bridget, my _daughter_ to fall in love with Potter and now she's met up with her _twin brother! _Those two are the most powerful kids on this planet. They are so powerful that neither of them can feel pain. They are so powerful that there are two of them instead of one. If they were to join against me..." Voldemort shook his head. Snape was surprised that he looked very worried.

"Sir, it won't happen. I promise," Snape said. Voldemort looked up.

"CRUCIO!" Snape withered in pain as the curse hit his body.

"M-master!"

"It better not happen," Voldemort said, breaking the curse, "or there will be hell to pay for you."

"It won't. In fact, I think we can use this to our advantage," Snape said, gulping.

"Really? Tell me," Voldemort ordered. With that Snape and Voldemort engaged themselves in deep planning. This time it would not fail. This time he would have Harry Potter destroyed for good. There was no way it couldn't work. The perfect plan with a perfect outcome. In just a few months Harry Potter would be dead and Voldemort would be in total control. Oh, it would feel so sweet.


	72. EEK

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Bridget and Harry's hands were laced as they walked along the lake, having small chats and laughs. Though they'd fallen into a bit of a mishap, life had continued to carry on without a hitch. There was a certain redundancy about the way life had became and Harry almost didn't know what to do with himself without an impending doom or approaching danger. There was nothing to save.

Of course, the boy had not forgotten about the prophecy that so clearly proclaimed his death. The thought of his loss constantly made itself at home with his brain, but that was becoming less and less unnatural as the days went by. For the time being all Harry had to do was classes and enjoy life as a teenager.

He wondered, if only briefly, if this is what normal kids felt everyday. What would it be like when all of your concerns only extended as far as homework or whether or not you were still in a fight with a friend? Did Harry take the fall from the most pressing matters so that others would not have to? By becoming famous and intent on destroying Voldemort was he saving the innocence of children all over school?

It was a noble thought, Harry concluded, and decided that if he was it was worth it.

After a while they were joined by Ron and Hermione. Of course, the boys had engaged themselves in a conversation about quidditch. Bridget and Hermione just listening, trailing slowly behind them. There wasn't much to be said about broomsticks and quaffles. To participate in conversation of that nature it was clear that one would have to have a great deal of testosterone, something which Hermione and Bridget had none of.

"Gryffindor is defiantly going to win this year," Harry said enthusiastically.

"No doubt!" Ron replied with equal enthusiasm.

"You both are wrong," a deep voice said. Bridget turned around and felt a smile creep onto her bored face.

"AIDEN!" she yelled, tackling him to the ground. He grunted, pushing her off and standing up again.

"You need to have come self control, Bridget," he scolded, offering her a hand. Bridget rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and turned away from Aiden in a moment of stubbornness.

"Anyway, Slytherin is better than the rest of the houses combined," Aiden said, leaving Bridget on the ground. She pouted as Hermione helped her up. It was obvious what was going to happen now. Hermione and Bridget trailed even further behind as they let the argument enfold.

"Oh shut up, Gryffindor is going to kick Slytherins arse," Harry retorted. Aiden snorted.

"Prove it."

"Fine, when?" Harry asked, ready for the challenge.

"Now."

"We don't have enough players," Harry said, scoffing.

"Afraid? I _am_ a pretty good seeker, you know," Aiden said, smirking.

"No. We'll just seek then," Harry suggested. Aiden shook his head.

"No, look, I see Blaise. You can have Ron and Hermione, and I'll get Bridget and Blaise," Aiden said, waving Blaise over. He quickly walked over, smiling. Bridget coughed.

"What is it?" Blaise asked.

"Quidditch?" Aiden said. Bridget coughed again.

"Alright."

"We're against Potter and his gang." Bridget coughed again.

"She's on our team," Aiden added, point toward Bridget.

"Nice," Blaise said, eyeing her up and down. She just coughed again.

"You okay?" Harry asked.

"No, thanks for asking!" Bridget said, faking a smile.

"What is it?" Aiden asked.

"I don't play quidditch. Sorry."

"What do you mean? Don't you know how to ride a broom?" Ron asked.

"Yea! I just don't have one," she said, shrugging. "Besides, I don't think Hermione wants to play either," Bridget added. Hermione let out a smile in relief.

"Alright. We'll seek," Aiden said, his teeth gritted.

"We'll watch," Bridget said, relaxing.

Hermione let the snitch out, holding the two boys back. In a matter of seconds they were off, though. Bridget sat Indian style on the field, Ron on her right and Hermione on her left. Blaise had left, of course, feeling excluded.

"Who do you think will win?" Hermione asked.

"Harry," Ron said immediately. Bridget didn't answer. She was fumbling with the grass, not looking up.

"Wow, they're both really good!" Hermione exclaimed. Bridget looked up.

"That they are," she said, laughing.

"Harry's better." Ron retorted.

"In bed," Bridget added, sniggering.

"Not something I ever needed to think about, thanks," Ron groaned, scooting away. Hermione sighed.

"This is going to go on forever," she said.

"Does this mean we get to sit here until the end of time?" Bridget asked.

"Probably," Ron answered. He raised his wand and muttered a spell. A few seconds later his broom came to him. He grabbed it, smirking.

"Ron.."

"Come on, Bee, get on!"

"That's okay," Bridget said quickly. Ron grabbed her hand, bringing her over to the broom.

"Come on! I want to see you fly! Are you as good as your brother?" Ron asked.

"No," she said firmly.

"Please!" Ron begged. Bridget shook her head.

"I am not getting on that broom!"

"Come on! Why not?"

"I don't want to!" Bridget huffed. Ron just shook his head, poking her.

"Heeeey!" she screeched.

"Get on the broom! See if you can catch the snitch before Harry or Aiden!" Ron pushed her toward the broom. She shook her head. Ron scowled, grabbing her from behind and tickling her. She yelled loudly.

"Ron, stop! Ron, hey! That tickles!"

"Duh, Bridget. That's the point," he retorted, poking her in the side. She gasped for breath, laughing.

"I'm cold!" she whined.

"If you ride that broom it will warm you up!" Ron said, nudging her.

"Sorry, I don't do the whole broom thing," Bridget shrugged, taking a step back from Ron.

"You are no fun," Ron complained. He was glaring at Bridget, intent on forcing her to fly.

"Well next time make Hermione ride the broom," Bridget said, pointing to Hermione was had been sitting there giggling the whole time.

"That's alright," Hermione said, putting her hands up in defense.

"Yea, plus I value Hermione more than you," Ron said. Bridget scrunched up her face.

"I should _slap_ you, Ronald!" Bridget exclaimed, lunging toward him. She quickly stepped back, though, as Harry flew in-between them. Bridget gasped, falling over as Aiden followed on his heels. Ron erupted in a fit of giggles-very unmasculine-and stuck his finger out in a very immature manner. At that very moment the snitch flew by them, though, hovering before Ron snatch out his hand and grabbed it.

"Ha ha! I WIN!" Ron teased, watching the two boys land on the ground. Harry sighed. brbr

"Well, looks like we both lost," Harry mused.

"Rematch?" Aiden suggested.

"No!" all three of the other shouted.

"Let's go inside," Bridget suggested, flashing a hopeful grin.

--

Harry's arm was draped around Bridget's shoulders as her arm was around his waist. They were walking in perfect synchronization.

"So Bridget?" Ron asked. "Why wouldn't you get on that broom?" Ron asked. Bridget mumbled something, burying her head in Harry's chest.

"What?" Ron questioned.

"I'm afraid of heights," Bridget whispered.

"Really?" Ron asked, laughing. Bridget nodded.

"They terrify me."

"Wow! Who would have guessed?" Ron teased. Bridget punched him in the shoulder.

"Shut up, spider man!" Ron shivered at the mention of spiders and after that didn't mention anything about Bridget's fear. Harry gave her an incredulous look, finding it impossible that anybody could be so afraid of something he loved so much.

"You really are scared of them?" he questioned thoughtfully. Bridget nodded.

"Heights really are up there on my top ten list of things I fear."

"Why?"

Bridget looked at Harry with a smile, considering this question for a moment. It didn't take much thought to answer, though, because why was anybody ever afraid of heights?

"I've always been a little afraid of falling."


	73. If Only

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

"Guys?"

"Yeah?"

"When was Aiden ever in our potions class?" Hermione asked, seeing Aiden talking to some Slytherins as they awaited their teacher, Snape.

"I guess he's always been there," Bridget said, shrugging. "We just never noticed." Before another word could be said Snape arrived, opening the doors as everyone filed inside the class room. Bridget sat down in her seat, expecting Harry to follow her lead, like he always did, but he never came. Instead, Aiden had rushed to her side, a cocky smirk on his face. Harry frowned, but took his seat next to Neville, who welcomed his presence with great joy.

Bridget sighed as Snape began his lecture. Aiden seemed to have a secret quarrel with Harry, similar to the one Harry had with Seth. Yet, while there may have been little reason for Harry and Seth to fight, there was even smaller reason for Harry and Aiden to be at odds with each other. Hadn't they got over this? Yes, they had. In fact, Harry was being quite civil to her brother. It was Aiden who seemed to like to strike the match of Harry's anger. Bridget ran a hand through her hair.

"Aiden?" she whispered.

"What?"

"So, what do you think of Harry?"

"He's great, really good for you," Aiden said, nodding. Bridget grinned.

"Good, because it seems you two aren't getting along," she said. Aiden shrugged.

"I don't know why we wouldn't. Everything's fine. You worry too much," Aiden said, nudging her. She laughed, but winced slightly at how fake it was. Shaking her head, she focusing her mind into Snape's lecture.

"The draught of living death is a very temperamental potion and it takes great skill and devotion to create. Unfortunately, only few of you have the devotion and next to none of you have the skill," Snape droned on and in a matter of minutes Bridget's mind strayed. It was on Harry, now. Her mind was fantasizing, playing things out in her head, picturing his ever so wonderful body. She could almost feel his touch on her hand as they walked down the halls. She could almost feel his strong arms wrapped around her as they rested on the couch. She could almost hear his voice, whispering things in her ear. Then there was his kiss, something filled with more passion, love, and lust than Bridget thought possible.

It pained her to think about it, having him not there, even though he was but a few feet a way. She screeched as the pain intensified, Aiden's foot coming crashing down on her leg. Time seemed to stop as Snape's words cut off, a sly grin forming on his face. He stayed frozen in his spot, his head turning ever so slowly to meet the face of the scream.

"Ms. Riddle," the word's escaped his lips, each one dripping with disgust.

"Who?" Bridget asked as time returned to its normal pace.

"You," Snape hissed, bearing his ugly, yellow teeth. Bridget faintly remembered when Snape _liked_ her (as much as Snape could like anybody); what had happened?

"Me?" Bridget asked, pulling off one of the best fake innocent faces Snape had ever seen.

"Is there a reason your voice was so loud, interrupting my speech?" Snape asked. Bridget didn't move, so Snape continued to taunt her. "What's the third step in creating the draught of living death?"

"I-"

"When stirring, why is it important to move clockwise?"

"You see-"

"When is it appropriate, or _legal,_ to use this potion and when is it not?

"Well," Bridget was once again cut off by Snape, as he tisked at her. He had obviously sensed the uncertainty in her voice and assumed she hadn't been paying attention, which she hadn't.

"Next time I suggest paying attention instead of going off to dream land. I'm sure whatever's going on in your thoughts can wait," Snape said, swiftly turning back to his desk, his voice filled with annoyance as he continued to teach. Bridget swore she saw him glance at Harry, though. Of course, that was why he hated her. She supposed her love for Harry had made many hate her, especially those who served her father.

With a sigh she stared at her desk, only having a faint idea of what she had given up for that boy. It didn't matter, though. Every minute of ridicule, hate, and punishment was worth it, as long as Harry loved her and was by her side. Bridget's mind flickered back to Aiden, who was the cause for her scream.

"Why did you do that?" she hissed.

"You weren't paying attention!"

"Oh yea, and you were?" Bridget mused.

"Yeah. Get out of dream land, love. This is the real world, and your happy (and slightly demented) thoughts won't get you anywhere here, so you better watch your back," Aiden warned, a serious look in his face that Bridget had never seen before. Bridget pushed his words away, though. She had a knack for ignoring things she didn't want to hear, no matter how important they were.

--

"Aiden! Why didn't you sit with me?" an exited girl exclaimed after class.

"My sister, Bridget, wanted some company," Aiden said, making excuses. Harry rolled his eyes, but Bridget just giggled.

"Oh, alright," the girl said, slightly disappointed.

"Don't worry, love, you'll get plenty of company tonight," Aiden said suggestively, giving the girl a wink. She squealed and ran off to her friends.

"Who was that?" Bridget asked.

"Uh, I dunno," Aiden said, frowning slightly.

"What?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She's great though," Aiden concluded, nodding. Bridget let out a loud screech, catching the innuendo almost immediately.

"HERMIONE!"

"Oh, dear God," Ron muttered, watching Bridget hid behind his girlfriend.

"Look what you've done! She'll never be the same again!" Harry exclaimed, rubbing his temples in fake agony.

"Hermione, I've decided that all males should die. Especially the perverted ones," Bridget proclaimed.

"That would be _every_ male, but okay," Hermione said, trying to sooth Bridget.

"Let's elope!" Bridget exclaimed.

"Actually, that's alright. I'm perfectly happy with Ron."

"I'm not!"

"You're not with Ron," Ron said, wrapping an arm around Hermione.

"LIES! Your talk of third person is deceitful!"

"Time to go now, Bridget," Harry said, placing a hand on her lower back and pushing her forward. She pouted, but by default fell into his arms. She looked up at him and gave him a sweet kiss.

"I love you,"

"I know. I love you too," Harry said, returning her kiss with a more passionate one. She smiled into it, a grin she didn't see going away anytime soon.

"Oh, get a room you two!" Aiden exclaimed.

"This coming from the guy who-never mind," Hermione said, shaking her head. Bridget and Harry didn't hear any of this, though. They were lost in their own world, where such a love like theirs was not forbidden, but encouraged.

Bridget wished so much for a world like that, but as Voldemort was becoming more and more dangerous, she could still not shake the hollow feeling inside her, that said death was coming, and soon. Her mind flickered back to the prophecy, which foretold Harry's death, and how there was no way out. She just wished time would stop, almost like it did in Snape's classroom. All she wanted was to live forever with Harry, in his arms, with no father hunting them down for death. If only time could stop. If only, if only.

Bridget buried herself deeper into Harry's body, chasing away all of those negative thoughts. She should enjoy her time with Harry while she had it. Especially since she didn't know how long it would last. If only, if only


	74. Silent Thoughts

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Silent thoughts were very evident in the bitter cold. They streamed through every corner of the grounds, each one so different from the other.

_I'm going to die._

Harry glanced at the girl in his arms, a weak smile forming. She was staring straight ahead as the couple and their friends continued to walk ever so aimlessly across Hogwarts grounds.

_I'm hungry_

In turn, Ron had his arm around Hermione. His thoughts were dancing around the depression that was lingering inside of him. For a moment, brief and sweet, everything had been fine. Ron would even dare to say that things were great. Bridget had come back into their lives and with her she brought hope and happiness. Soon after Hermione had woken up from her coma and then came the last of Bridget's family. How much more perfect could things get?

Yet, Ron could feel those times ending. The euphoria was fading and the following hazards would jump at them worse than before. Failure and loss was staring at them straight in the face, waiting from them just a few paces up the path.

_I'm going to fail_.

Exams were coming up soon, and the horror of failing the NEWTS lingered around the corner of everyone's mind. The Ravenclaws had already started studying, but Hermione hadn't, and she was scared silly.

_I'm SO bored._

While worry had corrupted some, adrenaline had taken over others. How come nothing was going on? It was a rare day when things were boring in Hogwarts, and Bridget Riddle was defiantly not going to let today be one of them.

_I can't believe I let her go_

A snow ball hit Seth right in the forehead, but he didn't move. The screams and squeals were silent to him, as if he was off in another dimension, an outsider looking in.

_I'm going to kill him._

Rage and hate burned inside the second Riddle, like a fire no man could extinguish. He hurled a ball of snow at the nearest bystander, searching for something to silence the roaring beast inside of him. He thought of the words that had been told to him just last night. Pride swelled up in him, but this did not stop the power in his throw.

A ball of snow hit Bridget hard in the head. She stiffened up from the cold, laughing with Ron as she turned to face her killer. Her eyes connected with Aiden, her smile fading. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged. So in turn she picked up a clump of snow and hit him in the chest with it. He did not budge, though, just shook his head and turned around. Bridget sighed, turning back around to face Ron as another one hit her in the head.

"Aiden!" she screeched, but as she turned around Aiden had disappeared. Instead stood Seth, a weak smile on his face.

"Sorry," he said, laughing.

"Oh, I'm sure," Bridget squealed, throwing a ball of snow at her ex-boyfriend. In truth Seth hadn't thrown the snowball; it _had _been Aiden. He missed her attention, though, and Aiden had run off with a blond girl, leaving him to take the blame. Any other male would have growled and begin to brood, but not when Bridget was involved. It was like she had some sort of spell on him, making him do crazy things. While he had enjoyed those few seconds of talking, though, Bridget had moved on, her focus now on Harry, as usual.

"Harry, that was mean!" Bridget scolded, wagging her frozen finger.

"So? You do the same to me?"

"But I'm _me! _It's okay," Bridget said, crossing her arms.

"Not according to me," Harry said, crossing his arms right back at her. He imagined that they looked quite silly, standing in the snow and mimicking each other. Harry didn't much mind, though. He'd gotten over what people thought of him a long time ago and Bridget looked so very beautiful in the snow, flakes clinging to her eyelashes and dampening her hair.

"Oh, shut up," Bridget huffed, throwing a snowball at him. He frowned, chasing after her departing body.

"I'll get you for that!" he yelled, trying to catch up. Bridget was a fast runner, though. Instead of catching up with her, he just smacked straight into Ron.

"Sorry mate," Ron muttered.

"This is so insane."

"Yeah, I reckon half the school is out here throwing snow around!"

"Who started this again?" Hermione asked, running up to them, panting.

"Bridget," they all chorused, and Harry's attention was once again diverted. Where had she run off to now?

--

"That was crazy," Ron huffed.

"Worse than crazy," Hermione agreed.

"Kinky, even!" Bridget exclaimed. Everyone let out a week laugh, for they were all tired after that snowball fight. They eventually all just collapsed on the couch, too tired to talk. They weren't too tired to think, though.

Harry was deadly tired, but he was thanking Bridget for it. Maybe he would actually sleep tonight. The thought made him feel warm inside, or maybe that was just the fire. Either way it was pleasant to have the idea of rest. He didn't need to waste his days fretting in the middle of the night and fighting with sleep.

_This is perfect_

Ron couldn't move. Tired as hell and starving, who would be able to? He was feeling lazier then ever and the warm fire wasn't helping. It felt SO good, though.

_I hope this never ends._

Hermione had forgot all things important. Exams had slipped from her mind and all that mattered was the warmth from the fire and Ron, who was resting next to her. There were no more worries, and though her brain felt dead, she didn't really care. No, not at all.

_I could get used to this._

Bridget had found her comfort in Harry's arms. She was smiling, but inside her stomach was turning. The day had been fun, a great escape from reality, and she was proud of herself for starting it. As the evening carried on, though, the haunting thoughts returned.

_We're all in deep shit._

The four friends did not notice the envious looks they were getting from the corner of the room. Not as tired as the rest of the group, he had plenty of energy to plan.

_I'll get her back._

Even the Slytherin common room was tired, for they had joined in as well. In fact, the whole school was probably dead in their common room at this very moment. Everyone was too tired to do much of anything, so they didn't. As tired as they were, the Slytherins were not ones to stop cleverly thinking, even after a they'd tired themselves out. They had to keep up! It wasn't hard for one certain Slytherin, though. He had been thinking the same thing for quite a while now.

_I'm going to kill him._


	75. Shake, Rattle, and Roll

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

"When did life get so boring?" Bridget whined.

"Love, it's always been this way," Ron replied. It was sickening to think that when everything settled down Bridget was uncomfortable. She'd been so used to her life being filled with troubles that this constant feel of contentment was unsettling. It was like a calm before a storm and Bridget had decided she'd rather have a constant rain than a large storm.

"I don't like it," she said, scrunching up her face. The two of them where walking to lunch, having just finished the only class they had alone together.

"Then fix it!" Ron exclaimed. Bridget's eyes lit up. "Shit. I should not have said that," Ron muttered. He knew Bridget would fix it, but he also knew that it would probably not end up well for him. Ron could almost smell the detention lurking in his future.

"Let's go!" Bridget yelled, grabbing Ron's arm and dragging him to the great hall.

"Bridget!" he called after her. "Slow down!"

"Come on, Ron. Don't be such a lame pants," Bridget ordered, sticking out her tongue.

"At least I have pants," Ron said, walking into the Great Hall.

"Not for long!" Bridget screeched and time seemed to slow as she moved swiftly towards his waistline. Ron stumbled backward into the wall, but there was nowhere to run when Bridget's hands tugged at his trousers.

Ron screeched, his face becoming a tomato as he stared down at himself, pants around ankles and white legs shining for all to see. He fumbled to pull them up, hoping nobody important had noticed as he hid himself in a darker corner outside the Great Hall. He mentally killed Bridget and hoped her next victim luck.

--

Seth was slowly walking up the Bridget, feeling the case in his pocket. His head wasn't right as he saw her. He was going crazy, but Bridget was crazy herself and had that effect on people. She was laughing, and Seth couldn't help but pick up on the conversation.

"I hate you, Bridget."

"Aw, I love you too."

"I'm serious! I like to keep my clothes on! If you want to go strip some guy, that's what Harry's for."

"What?" Harry squeaked, walking up. Bridget smirked, making a move towards Harry. Ron groaned, catching her arm.

"Not _now_," he elaborated. Harry was staring at the two of them in confusion, taking him Bridget's pout and Ron's mortified expression.

"What happened?" he questioned.

"Your girlfriend pants me in front of the whole damn Hall. Doesn't she have a leash or something?"

"And risk the chance of never seeing your bare legs again?" Harry snickered, placing an arm around Bridget. Seth's jealously increased and he wondered why he ever broke up with her in the first place. Would it have made a difference if he just sucked it up? So what if she lied to him? He missed her!

"Bridget? Can I talk to you for a moment?" Seth blurted, walking up towards the group. The three of them turned to look at Seth blankly and Seth hoped Harry could control his temper.

"Sure." She didn't move.

"In private?" Seth urged.

"Oh, okay," Bridget replied, but still she did not move.

"Now?"

"Oh! Why didn't you say so?" Bridget giggled. She nudged Ron in the arm, receiving a glare and then made a scene of hugging Harry. He rolled his eyes, but Seth could see his arms tighten around her as they kissed.

"Oh, get a room." Seth snapped, his hand reaching out from Bridget's arm. She blushed, reluctantly letting go of Harry and then followed Seth.

"What is it?"

"Bridget, this is really hard for me to say-" he was cut off. Bridget had become distracted, noticing a Slytherin boy Seth knew to be her brother.

"AIDEN!" Bridget yelled, lunging for his pants. Seth couldn't stop himself from glaring, wondering what exactly he'd done to make Bridget no longer respect him enough to listen.

"BRIDGET!" he yelled right back, filled with rage as he made a move to protect his pants.

"Bridget, I'm trying to talk to you!" Seth pleaded for her attention.

"What was that? You want me to strip you too?" Bridget laughed. Seth glared, not even caring that Aiden had left in a fit and her attention was on him again.

"Whatever. It doesn't matter."

--

"You're insane," Harry said, rolling his eyes as Bridget sat down next to him.

"It's all for you, baby," she replied, picking up some toast.

"Aiden looked pretty angry," Hermione stated.

"When'd you get here?" Bridget asked.

"Same time as Aiden. I'm smart enough to avoid you when you're causing mayhem, though," Hermione explained, rolling her eyes.

"Okay then," Bridget said, laughing.

"What did Seth want?" Ron asked.

"I dunno. He never to talk to me, really," Bridget replied, shrugging.

"How rude of you," Harry mused.

"Oh well."

Bridget felt a bit of concern for Seth and she too began to wonder what he wanted to say. It didn't sound like anything important though and if it was why didn't he just tell her? Sure, she might have not been listening, but all the same. He said it didn't matter.

As the foursome began walking to class Bridget was pulled aside by Aiden.

"Come here," a deep male voice ordered. Bridget obeyed.

"You need to learn to grow up," he ordered.

"What are you talking about, Aiden?" Bridget asked, laughing.

"You're always acting like a child. You start snowball fights, pants people, and about a million more things I don't even want to get into," Aiden explained.

"So?" Bridget asked.

"So, you need to stop."

"Why?" Bridget asked, placing her hands on her hips.

"It won't get you anywhere, Bee."

"I need to act this way. I need to be happy," Bridget pleaded.

"Acting immature is your way of escaping your problems. You can't run from them, Bridget. They're just going to get worse, and one day they're going to catch up with you," Aiden's voice was stern as he spoke. Bridget looked down, running a hand through her hair.

"Then how am I suppose to stay sane? How am I to be happy?"

"You're not sane now. You're completely mental. You aren't happy either. This happiness is just an illusion. Get over it," With that Aiden left, leaving Bridget alone in her distain. She rubbed her temples, Aiden's words dancing all over her thoughts. He was right. The more she filled herself with this fake happiness the more empty she felt. She had to fill this emptiness, though. She had to be better. Where was it coming from, though? What was digging a hole in her heart?

_Worry_

It was worry for Harry. She knew her days with him where limited. He would be gone soon. She had to hold on to him, though. He had to fill her hole. Bridget's voice sounded empty in the hallways; it reflected what was inside.

"What now?"

--

"Master, I have good news."

"What would that be, Severus?"

"We have somebody new on our side," Snape replied, smirking.

"Really, who would that be?" Voldemort asked, looking incredulous. Snape leaned in to whisper the name is Voldemort's ear.

"Really?" Voldemort exclaimed, a certain sick happiness in his eyes.

"Yes. The student spoke to me today."

"They are close with Potter, right?" Voldemort asked, his face stony.

"Yes."

"Well, Severus, maybe we'll hold off on the plan for now."


	76. Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Seth stared into the eyes of Bridget Riddle, memorized by the pure, blue, eccentric pull they had on him. She wasn't looking at him, but he could still see all emotions they conveyed. He hadn't realized what a warm color blue was until he met her, but now that he had something had overcome him. Constantly he wondered why he felt the need to be the bigger person and break up with her. His logic was stupid.

Feeling his gaze, the girl turned to face him, eyes locking. She paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow, before smirking and turning away. The blue eyes weren't very different from Seth's, but there some something about them that made Seth yearn for more. They made quite a cute couple together, really, their features matching evenly and making a sight that would please even the most critical of eyes. He longed for her.

This disturbed him. Could she really be so much of an addiction to him? It was even worse that his feelings where not reflected back. He could change this, though. Bridget had always turned to him when things weren't going well; she was just a little confused. After tonight he'd show her where she belonged; he was certain she would see things his way.

--

"What is it?" Harry asked, following her gaze.

"Just Seth," Bridget whispered, smirking and turning back to the conversation. He'd been acting strangely lately, not that Bridget could really evaluate it. They hadn't spoken since that day they broke up and she didn't blame him. She felt a bit bad about running to Harry just moments-it seemed-after she'd lost Seth

"He's still staring at you."

"He has been all breakfast," Ron added, taking a bite of his bacon.

"What?" Bridget asked, laughing. The thought confused her. Shouldn't he be bitter and hateful towards her? His politeness was unsettling.

"He must still like you," Hermione commented from behind her book. Bridget's eyes sparkled, glancing back at him.

"How flattering," she mused.

"I still don't like him," Harry muttered darkly.

"Are you jealous?" Ron asked.

"You shouldn't be; I'm utterly, unconditionally, and irrevocably in love with you!" Bridget told him. He smiled, kissing her.

"I know," he muttered. He didn't doubt Bridget when she told him this, but Seth's steady gaze still bothered him. Sometimes love wasn't enough, especially with the forces of life trying to tear them apart

--

Seth's stomach churned as he sat through charms. Thinking about her was making him sick, and he could hardly concentrate on his lesson. If only twilight would come sooner! At the end of class Seth jumped out of his seat, purposely bumping into Bridget, causing her to drop her books. Harry leaned down to pick them up for her, but Seth beat him to it.

As quickly as possible he had jumped to the ground, scooped up the books and handed them back to Bridget, making a point to slip a small note on top of one. Harry glared, but Seth ignored him, scurrying out of the room.

"What was that about?" Harry asked, his voice dripping with annoyance. Bridget didn't answer; she was staring at the note Seth had slipped her.

_Bridget-_

_Meet me by the lake at twilight. I have something very important to speak with you about._

_-Seth_

"I don't know," she said slowly, wondering what Seth could possibly want with her. Harry raised an eyebrow. She considered telling Harry about the note, but knew it would only fuel is anger. Harry had never been civil to Seth and Bridget was especially sure he wouldn't be now.

Maybe she should have felt bad about keeping it a secret from Harry, but Bridget couldn't imagine whatever Seth wanted being a big deal. Harry shouldn't make it one.

--

Seth was anxiously waiting by the lake. His eyes where staring, focused, on the doors of the castle.

"Hi," a voice whispered. Seth jumped, turning to face her.

"How-"

"Don't ask," Bridget ordered, putting a finger to his lips. "Now what did you want?"

"Uh," Seth was surprised. Maybe it was just him, but Bridget seemed much more _friendly_ than usual. "I love you."

"What?" her smile had faded at Seth's words. He fumbled to pull out a small box from his pocket, and fell to the ground.

"I love you. I'm miserable without you, and I want you to marry me!" Seth exclaimed. He shook his head. "Will you?"

"What?" she repeated, choking on her words.

"Bridget-er," Seth racked his brain for her middle name.

"Hope."

"What?" it was apparently his turn to ask questions.

"Hope's my middle name. If you're going to propose, do it right," Bridget said, running her tongue over her teeth.

"Bridget Hope Riddle," Seth started, feeling more confident, "Will you marry me?"

"I'm sorry, Seth, I can't."

"Why not?" he asked, getting off his knee.

"I don't love you."

"Why not?" Seth asked again, almost whining.

"I love Harry."

"But I thought-"

"Thought what? That through flattery I would somehow see my true love for you, and that we'd marry happily?" Bridget asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well-yeah!"

"Don't be naive, Seth. I don't love you, okay? I love Harry, and I find it very dim-witted that you would even think of proposing to me when it is obvious that I am with Harry and do not intend on changing that anytime soon," Bridget paused, crossing her arms. "I thought you knew this. I thought you understood."

--

"He did _what?"_ Harry screamed, his face red from anger.

"I know, right?" Bridget asked, sneering.

"Doesn't he know that you're _my_ girlfriend?" Harry screeched.

"He should."

"I swear if he ever even looks at you again I'll kick his ass!"

"Yeah!"

"Don't you take this seriously? He _proposed_ to you! You! You're mine, not his!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, first off, I _am_ taking this seriously. Second off, I am not yours!" Bridget corrected, glaring.

"You're more mine than you are his!" Harry pointed out.

"I don't belong to anybody! I am mine! If I wanted to say yes to him nobody, not even you, would have stopped me!" Bridget shouted.

"Oh, so now you wanted to say yes!" Harry alleged.

"I never said that!"

"You implied it!"

"Maybe you just want an excuse to get rid of me!" declared Bridget.

"Maybe I do!" Harry confirmed. Bridget froze, looking him right in the eye.

"What?" she whispered.

"No, no, Bridget, I didn't mean that," Harry pleaded.

"I can't do this anymore," Bridget said, turning her head away. "I can't even look at you," with that she stormed out of the common room, passing Seth on the way.

"YOU!" she screeched, about to slap him. Then she saw Harry in the background, staring at her. It took a lot of will power to ignore the obvious pain and anguish in his eyes as she brought her lips crashing down on Seth's. Both of the boys where shocked, and Seth felt his heart fill with joy. The pleasure quickly disappeared, though, as Bridget broke apart from him, whispered one thing in his ear.

"I hate you. How could you have done this?" she hissed before walking away, missing the unmistakable torment on Harry's face, and the evident shock and confusion on Seth's.

She shouldn't have to work so hard for this.


	77. Seperation

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

More glares than usual where exchanged as Bridget Riddle strolled into the Great Hall the next morning. Her eyes immediately locked with Harry's, but for the first time she turned away, focusing on something else in the distance. She was angry and confused, too controversial to face him. It wasn't fair that life had to be so difficult for them, always forcing them apart like this.

It didn't help that there was a natural urge to fight with him. Whoever planned that they were to fall in love was seriously sick, because Bridget couldn't remember a time when she'd ever not wanted to half strangle Harry.

At that moment Seth looked up hopefully and scurried over to her side.

"So, I get why you wouldn't want to be wed now, but maybe later on in life-"

"Don't you get it, Seth?" Bridget cut him off.

"Get what?" he asked, looking into her eyes. Bridget looked at him hopelessly, the echo of a glare in her eyes as she shook her head in disbelief.

"I was using you!"

"What?"

"I only wanted to get back at Harry for what he said. That kiss meant nothing," Bridget explained, shaking her head. She felt a pang of guilt at the crestfallen look on Seth's face. How come she ended up hurting everybody she cared for? Even if her emotions weren't strong she couldn't keep herself from causing pain everywhere she went.

"You lied."

"I meant what I said by the lake. Please, just leave me alone," Bridget said, her voice weak. She fell into her distant seat, and it welcomed her. She slumped a bit, resting her head on the table. It was cool against her cheek.

"Hello, old friend," she whispered, lightly stroking the wood with her index finger. She had become very accustom to sitting here. What a sad life she lived. As she sat in isolation her thoughts began to travel and the guilt settled in.

She had been horrible to Seth. She had been a bitch after he poured out his heart and asked to spend the rest of his life with her. She didn't want to say yes, but still, she could have said no a little nicer. Then, of course, she had treated Harry like trash, acting like he meant nothing. That was an obvious lie. He meant everything. He was her hero, her last hope, the only one she loved. She blew him off, and then went and kissed the man who just proposed to her, who happened to play a major part in the fight.

Of course, that had lead Seth on, and once again she had to turn him down, being a bitch about that as well, of course. What kind of person was she?

"What happened?" a voice asked, sighing.

"What do you mean?" Bridget asked, looking up to see Ron, a frown on his face. She felt a rush of gratitude for Ron. He truly was the best friend a girl could hope for.

"Well, I knew something was up when Harry wouldn't speak to me, but I didn't realize it had something to do with you until I saw you over here. So tell me, what have you been fighting about?" Ron asked, a knowing grin on his face. Bridget heaved a sigh.

"It was silly, really. I guess we just love to fight," Bridget mused, flashing a hopeful grin. Ron raised an eyebrow.

"You don't, though. You love the fight, but I can tell my the look in your eyes you regret it five seconds later."

"He was acting like he owned me. It was like I was some treasure he had, and Seth didn't."

"Seth?" Ron questioned.

"He proposed, you know," Bridget informed Ron.

"He did?" Ron asked, shocked. Bridget nodded.

"Harry was furious. He didn't mean to, but I think he channeled some of that anger toward me."

"He can do that," Ron agreed.

"I don't think I would have minded, but…" Bridget trailed off.

"But Harry turned into a jealous monster? Yeah, I know how that goes. The monster bit, I mean," Ron elaborated.

"I don't want to belong to anybody," Bridget explained. "For too long I let myself become attached to Voldemort and while I love Harry and he's a much better person than my father I'm my own person."

"Harry knows that," Ron clarified.

"I know, and it probably would have been fine, probably, until Seth came back."

"You kissed him."

"I kissed him. I wanted Harry to hurt-" Bridget froze, attempting to burry herself in the table.

"What is it?" Ron asked, carefully placing a hand on her back.

"I'm a horrible person!" she screeched.

"What do you mean?" Ron cried, horrified.

"I was horrible to Seth, being so rude in turning him down. Then Harry got me angry, and I could feel the want to hurt him. The worst part is, I know how, and I succeeded, hurting Seth on the way. I used him; I lied to both of them. I can't seem to stop! I'm a disaster, dangerous to anybody who looks at me!" Bridget cried.

"Oh, Bridget, don't talk like that," Ron said soothingly.

"It's true. I'm going to be like him someday," Bridget whispered, feeling sick. Ron didn't have to ask who she was talking about now.

"You won't. You're too good for that."

"But look what I've done!" Bridget hollered.

"Anybody would have done the same thing. Think about it. These things happen all the time. Many relationships end like this. Be better than them. Fix it," Ron advised. Bridget frowned.

"I can't."

"You're Bridget Riddle. You can do anything."

--

Bridget took a deep breath, forcing her foot to go forward.

"One foot in front of the other; just keep walking," she muttered, trying hard not to fall. She coughed. Harry looked up. Their eyes locked. She focused her mind on saying that _one_ thing. Why was it so hard?

"What do you want?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes. At least he was kind enough to speak to her.

"I-Well, I'm sor-are we broken up?" Bridget asked, wincing. She didn't mean to say that! It just sort of happened. Harry raised an eyebrow. Hermione looked interested. It was the moment of truth.

"What do you think?" Harry asked.

"I don't know what to think."

"You better find out!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Bridget asked, pulling at her hair. Harry didn't look at her as he spoke, focusing his attention on a nearby student. His words were clear, biting like ice.

"Piss off."

--

"So how are you and Bee?" Ron asked his friend. Harry shook his head.

"There _isn't_ a 'me and Bee,' Ron."

"Didn't she say she was sorry?" Ron inquired, surprised.

"No! She asked if we were broken up," Harry told him.

"And you said?"

"I told her to ask somebody else and piss off," Harry mumbled.

"Why?" Ron asked, shocked.

"I don't know!" Harry exclaimed, rubbing his temples.

"Well do you want to break up with her?" Ron inquired after a moment. Harry didn't take long to respond.

"No. I'm not even mad anymore. I mean," he paused, tugging at his hair. "I was jealous and shouldn't have blown up at her in the first place. And I know why she kissed Seth. I trust that she doesn't fancy him."

"So then what's the problem?"

"I don't know, mate," Harry groaned. "I just don't know.

--

"What happened to saying sorry?" Ron asked, wagging his finger. He was getting a bit tired of going back and forth between his two friends, trying to put them back together. Bridget blushed.

"I tried! I really did, but.." she trailed off.

"You need to say sorry."

"Maybe I should just forget about him. We fight too much and-"

"Bridget Hope Riddle," Ron growled.

"Yes?"

"No. Just. No. You have to go apologize. Do it. I won't allow you to do otherwise," Ron ordered.

"Okay! Okay!" Bridget yelled, holding her hands up in defense. Ron sighed.

"I mean, for Merlin's sake you mined for him for months. No way am I letting you lose him, especially if I'm going to have to deal with the two of you moping about for the rest of our lives."

"I don't mope," Bridget defended, but Ron shook his head.

"Like hell you don't. You and Harry both just sit around and make horrible company."

"Fine, fine, You win. I'll apologize."

"Good."

"You know, you're kind of cute when you're mad."

"What?" Ron choked, eyes bulging.

"And you take control and get all defensive," Bridget said, her voice soft and seductive as she trailed a finger down Ron's arm. "I bet you'd be excellent in bed if you channeled those emotions correctly," she whispered, winking.

"Oh, save it for Harry. I'm sure he can get much more angry at you," Ron commented, rolling his eyes. Bridget pouted, hopping along with him as they walked to their next class.

"But Ronnie!" she whined. "I love you!"

"Piss off."

"Hmpf," Bridget frowned. "That's all anybody ever says to me?! Why is that, Ronnie? Why doesn't anybody love me?"

"I don't know," Ron replied, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe because you're a lying, cheating, bitch?" a cold voice suggested. Bridget turned around, a hurt look on her face. She really didn't feel like dealing with him. She hated when he got like this with her, hated how he could tear her down so easily.

"Maybe I am. You never minded before," she retorted, trying to be strong as she strutted off to sit by Hermione. Ron whacked Harry upside the head.

"Can't you do anything right?"

"I don't think so," Harry confessed. "I just see her and get so-"

"Angry?" Ron suggested. Harry glared at him, though there wasn't much power to it. Ron sighed, patting his mate on the back. They'd get through this. Ron would be damned if they didn't.


	78. Anything For You

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling.

The first quote you might remember from one of the Potter movies, by Dumbledore. He plays with a candle while he says it, but I don't remember which one it's from. XD

The lyrics in this fanmix-y sort of chapter are "Hero" by Enrique Iglesias. I probably fucked up that spelling, but oh well.

All credit is placed where it is due.

* * *

_From even in the mists of darkness light can be found._

The grassy hills of Hogwarts were rapidly turning green, leaves growing on trees, and the snow melting away. Winter was fading and spring was seeping in through the cracks of Hogwarts. Snow had turned to rain, but surprisingly there were no storms. It was light, refreshing rain, but nevertheless it kept the students contained. Well, most of them anyway.

_Would you dance if I asked you to dance?_

Bridget Riddle lie in the damp grass, soaking up that after-rain smell. Her eyes were closed, but flickered every once in a while when a small droplet would fall on her. She was nonchalant to the fact that this was were Seth had proposed just two nights ago. What did it matter now, anyhow? She could understand why he chose this place, though. It was peaceful, and right now Bridget would rather be nowhere else. What would she give to just be here forever, maybe even soak into the ground.

_Would you run and never look back?_

It was hard, not thinking about Harry. Now that she had had him, she just wanted him back. Bridget was learning to focus on other things, though, like the beautiful weather. How magnificent was the rain! How beautiful she felt in its presence! How she longed to be a part of it! What used to be so important had died away. Past mistakes and regrets were forgotten, and future plans nonexistent. All that mattered was here. All that mattered was now. Bridget was very close to falling asleep when she felt a body lie down next to her, lightly ruffling up the feral grass.

_Would you cry if you say me crying?_

It was just by his charisma that she knew it was him. That she knew he was there. What he was doing there, Bridget couldn't be sure. She didn't acknowledge him, but rather waited for him to speak, opening her blue eyes to stare at the grey sky. Finally, he spoke.

"I'm sorry."

_Would you save my soul tonight?_

Bridget didn't respond. It would be appropriate to return his gesture and apologize as well, but she didn't. She just sat there, staring.

"I'm sorry!" he pushed, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him lean on his elbow, hair falling in his eyes and sending his glasses askew. Bridget opened her mouth, but then closed it. She blinked, attempting to speak again.

"I know," she croaked. _Say it. _"I'm sorry too," she finished, but turned away from him. He tugged at her arm, and she slowly rolled over to face him. It seemed like nothing else needed to be said. Though so little words were spoken, both of them understood what the other wouldn't speak aloud. Both were too broken to say it just yet, and still, both were too in love to deny each other.

_Would you tremble if I touched your lips?_

Bridget broke away from the kiss, staring deep into Harry's emerald eyes. She blinked a few times, swiping a blond lock away from her face.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she said back. No smiles were exchanged. They were in silence, each person too at peace to move. No double checks were needed to know that they were together again. All that was wanted now was quiet. A time to soak up each other. A time to be alone together. It seemed silly, something they had yet to experience, but each person was content, and nobody wanted to move.

_Would you laugh?_

Bridget sighed.

Harry sighed.

They both sighed.

"Why do we fight?"

"I don't know."

"I mean, I don't like it! So why do I do it?" Bridget whined.

"I don't know," Harry repeated.

"What does it mean?" Bridget cried out.

"I don't-"

"You don't know," Bridget finished, smiling. Harry shook his head.

"No."

_Oh, please tell me this._

"Maybe it makes us stronger," Bridget suggested. For the past fifteen minutes she had been trying to find some logic in their resentment.

"Maybe," Harry agreed. His arm was draped around her waste, and tired, she leaned into him.

"Do you have any opinions at all?" she asked, laughing.

"Not really," Harry answered.

"Great."

"I do know I love you," Harry stated, lowering his voice.

"I love you too," Bridget sighed, burring her face in his chest.

"I don't care how much we fight. I'd do anything for you."

_Now would you die for the one you love?_

"You don't mean that," Bridget said, amusement laced in her voice.

"I do!" Harry defended.

"Harry, after all that I've done, how can you still love me?"

"Bridget, everybody makes mistakes. I don't care. All of it is in the past. I love you. I love you now. Right here," Harry comforted. Bridget looked at him, her blue eyes shining. He pulled her close, planting a small kiss on her lips. She grinned, and it was almost like everything was okay again. Almost.

_Hold me in your arms tonight._

"What are you thinking about?" Harry murmured.

"Stuff."

"Oh really?"

"Yes!" Bridget nodded, laughing softly.

"So what are you really thinking about?"

"The future," Bridget sighed. Harry raised an eyebrow. She sighed again. "It's just.. Because of my father you could die. I don't want to say you will, but you will! And once you're gone, who will be left to save us?"

"Don't say 'because of your father,' Bee. Just because Voldemort is an evil psycho maniac doesn't mean you are. You and him are totally different people."

"How?" Bridget blurted out. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"You have the capability to love. He does not. You see truth, and all he knows is lies. You are life, and he causes death. You know what is right and you act on it. How could you possibly think you were anything like him?" Harry inquired, shocked.

"Oh Harry," Bridget whimpered, clutching him. "What will I do without you?"

_I can be your hero, baby._

"I'm never going to leave you, Bee. I love you-"

"But what if love isn't enough?" Bridget howled. Harry took a deep breath.

"It will be. I can't let you go."

"It's just that they say you're supposed to save us. But.. it's not that I don't believe you can. It's that the prophecy-"

"Shh," Harry cooed, shushing her lips with his mouth. "Forget about it. Let me worry."

_I can kiss away the pain._

"I can't help it if I worry. I can't lose you!"

"Stop," Harry ordered, but somehow it made Bridget feel better. It was his face. He was so serious, so stern, and so final. He was saying it would be okay, and Bridget got the feeling that even if it _wasn't_ okay he'd make it okay. Just for her.

_I will stand by you forever._

Sweeping Bridget up in a deep kiss, Harry felt a rush of love swell up inside of him. As they broke apart he looked into her eyes, and for a moment was lost.

"We should go. Ron will be so happy to see us together," Bridget joked. Harry laughed, his emerald eyes sparkling.

"Come on," Harry said, helping her up. They held hands, smiling and joking as they walked to the castle. Their previous conversation was still in the back of Bridget's mind, Harry's face etched into her brain, but she didn't mind. His voice was so convincing; how could she say no to him? Her only choice was the listen, to love, and to learn.

_You can take my breath away_


	79. The Noose

**Disclaimer: Potterverse belongs to Rowling**

* * *

_The air was cold. Silent. The chill bit at my soul, piercing through my skin into my heart. I was standing on a wooden platform, staring blankly onto the surroundings before me. I was startled and confused, for I recognized nothing. The platform rose over a paved walkway, though it was worn and surrounded by grass and weeds. Beyond the path was an ocean, and I couldn't help but admire the beauty of waves beating against the rocks. They were peaceful, quiet, and distant. I closed my eyes and listened, the waves temporarily calming the confusion that was itching to become apparent in the back of my mind. I didn't want to open my eyes. The ocean and grass seemed strangely dull, like I was living in a world of haze and fog. When I eventually opened them up again I noticed that at the end of the path was Lillian, her beautiful red hair whirling in the wind. She was wearing a stunning Victorian dress, obviously made by one of the finest designers. I could not focus on the outfit, though, because frantic fear had worked its way into my mind. She was standing on a platform as well, but she was hanging. There was a noose around her neck. I struggled to reach out to her, to try and jump off my own platform and save her, but I could not move. Something was holding me back. I watched as Lillian did the same, but to no avail. We were both trapped._

_In the distance a hooded figure was coming forward to meet me. I could not tell who it was, or even if it was a boy or a girl. I opened my mouth to cry for help and Lillian did the same. The figure ignored her, though, and walked slowly toward me. Its footsteps were smooth and fluid, and whoever it was seemed calm despite the fact that my best friend was about to be hung. I did not have time to think about what Lillian could have possibly done to deserve this fate; I was franticly trying to draw the figures attention. It paid no attention to me either. It simply kept its head down, carefully walking up to me. I could tell it was a girl now. She was in front of me. I watched as she slowly pulled down her hood. I was shocked to be facing my own face, blond hair and all. My hysterical eyes looked up to meet Lillian's, and she mirrored me._

_It was then that I noticed the frame around her. A scrunched my face in confusion, and Lillian did the same. At that moment the truth dawned on me. It was not Lillian at all, but simply a mirror placed before me. In a frenzy I looked back down at my hooded self, terrified to see the familiar red eyes glaring back up at me. I half expected the hooded figure to merge into my father, but she stayed the same. Why I was suddenly Lillian was uncertain, but what the girl before me was going to do was simple. Slowly, she lifted her hand to remove the platform. In one last second of life I looked up to see Lillian Potter hang to death, her brother and parents hanging right along with her; My face, red eyes and all, was smirking in satisfaction._

Bridget awoke to screaming. She shot up in bed, searched madly around the room, looking for Lillian, the platform, the noose, Harry, anybody, or at least the source of the screaming. After a moment she realized that it was her screams she had woken up to, and she clamped her mouth shut. Her hands flew up to her throat as she clutched and clawed against it. The obscure images kept replaying themselves in her mind, each dim picture bringing on a new wave of terror.

She tried to block out the dead face of Lillian, but could not escape the look on her face. She looked so helpless and afraid, the color leaving her cheeks, her body becoming dull and limp in a matter of seconds.

It was not this, though this was immensely frightening, that would keep her up at night. It was the look on _her own_ face as she did it. As she sentenced Lillian to her death. It was the bright look in her red eyes, so much like her father's. They were _exactly_ like his, in fact, and this horrified Bridget to no end. Her nightmare had been a cluster of dim haze except for those eyes, the eyes on her own face, that shone with blissful delight as she sentenced Lillian to her doom. It made Bridget's head spin as she collapsed back onto her bed.

Her role in the dream was questionable too; why was she Lillian? Was how she felt during the dream what everybody else felt when they died? From this question a handful of more questions raced towards her, hitting her like a brick wall. Her head ached, but despite this Bridget was wide awake. She wanted so much to find some truth in the nightmare that was sure to keep her awake for the next year. As much as Bridget wanted to run away with from, she dipped in further, analyzing every bit.

Though it was only for a moment that she saw them, Bridget could not escape the bodies that surrounded Lillian. It was as if Bridget had not only murdered her best friend, but also her brother and parents. It was as if she had ripped away Lillian's life, and then as the cherry on top destroyed her as well. Bridget was shaking with horror, disturbed and appalled by what she was capable of doing. How could she ever deserve to live?

--

_My inviting laugh echoed through the whole house, the familiar bright smile on my face. I was with my family, having just cracked a joke. My mother and father were laughing, as was my brother as I leaned into him. He gave me a one-armed hug, messing up my hair. The room, so warm and inviting, was also gorgeous, defiantly preferable over the rain outside._

_By the lively decorations it was easy to assume that it was Christmas time, and when the bell rung and friends and family poured in it only confirmed my suspicion. Uncles and aunts hugged my brother and me, and then placed their presents under the table. One of the more distant relatives came in, holding an ancient mirror. My brother teased her in my ear, another roaring laugh escaped my lips as I turned towards the window. I froze, staring in shock at the frail body standing before it. It was Lillian, damp from the rain and porcelain from loneliness and malnourishment._

_I was slightly appalled that I had not stopped laughing, for the desperate look on her face was certainly not funny, but as I tore my gaze away and looked to see if anybody else had seen her I caught sight of my face in the mirror once more. My eyes were once again that lively red, sparkling with evil, and suddenly my laugh was no longer a laugh. It was a wicked cackle, and everybody stared at me for it. I knew it was not because they were insulted by Harry's joke or my rude laugh, but rather they were revolted by my sadistic screech and deathly crimson eyes. They were looking at me as if I was a monster. I could not help but believe they're opinions were right._

Bridget was not surprised to wake to screams. For the past two days she had been having nightmares, all of them the same. For the past three nights she had endured reliving the same dream over and over again, but it did not get better. Each time she was just as shocked as before that it was her that was the murderer, and the red eyes simply seemed to grow deeper and more like blood. It just got worse.

Tonight, though, she had dreamt something different. She didn't have to analyze this one as much as the first one. It was a guilt dream, and it was obvious what had happened. She was living out Lillian's life. She was living with Harry as her brother and his parents as her parents. She was living as if her father hadn't become a murderer, hadn't killed them all. Undeserving, she was a part of something so wonderful. She has belonged to something that was never supposed to be hers in the first place, and that was as plan as the blood red that tinted her eyes.

--

For the past week Bridget had been different. It had started horrible. She came to breakfast looking a mess, her hair disheveled, her clothes wrinkled. Harry couldn't escape the hollow look in her eyes and the paleness of her skin. Like normal she would sit down next to him, and he would put his arm around her. It was not normal, though, for her to shift away, and by the third prod Harry gave up.

She would not look at him. She would not meet anybody's eyes. She shuddered if anybody touched her, and she would not eat. Slowly as the time went on she got better, and by the third day she was almost normal. Still, her eyes were hollow, and it was as if she wasn't actually there. Her body was there, but her mind was far away, consumed by whatever was troubling her. Just as she was getting better she came to breakfast the fourth day just as bad, if not worse, as the first day.

Harry didn't know what to do. He could not imagine what would have caused such a vast change in attitude, and none of his friends had any idea either. Eventually they just avoided the subject. After a second round of numbness, Harry woke up at midnight, grabbed his cloak, and tip-toed to Bridget's room. As he approached the door he heard something. Freezing in his place he listened, and could just barely make out the screams. A wave of fret washed over him when he realized it was Bridget screaming. Furiously, he whispered the password and thrust open the door, only to see Bridget falling back onto her bed. He ran over to the bed, shaking her.

"Bridget! Bee!" he yelled.

"Stop! Go away! No! Lillian!" She clutched the sheets, clawing and tossing around. Harry placed a strong hand on her shoulder, steadying her. It took a few moments, but she settled, rolling over so she didn't have to face him. He sat down.

"Bridget, what happened?" Harry asked, concern lacing in his voice.

"Nightmares," she mumbled, burring herself deeper into the sheets.

"Tell me," Harry urged.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to. I don't deserve-" she cut off, sighing.

"Bridget, have you been getting any sleep?"

"Can't sleep. Nightmares."

"Nightmares? Bee, how long has this been going on?"

"A while."

"Tell me," Harry pleaded.

"I can't. No. Not good enough. Go away."

"Please, Bridget, I need to know."

"Why?"

"They could be from Voldemort. He could be-"

"Stop," she interrupted. Her voice was week, but at least it held the emotion that it hadn't for the past week. "I deserve this. Please just go away. Let me live out my punishment in peace," Bridget begged.

"I can't do that. I love you too much to let you do this to yourself," Harry told her. He was still hesitant to touch her; he had no idea how frail she was. "What did you do to deserve this anyway?"

"I killed her. I stole everybody. Everything. Murder," Bridget rambled.

"What? Who? Bridget, you didn't kill anybody!" Harry exclaimed.

"Lillian."

"Lillian?"

"I killed her. My fault," she mumbled.

"No," Harry whispered, his hand reaching out toward her. She did not deny him. "No, please, don't blame yourself. Besides, that was a long time ago and.." Harry trailed off. He was trying to be good, to make her feel better, but her name had sent a stab of pain through his heart. He missed her so very much. He had her for such a short time, but it was so wonderful with her. She was kind and sweet and looked out for him. She was the perfect sister.

"A long time ago?" Bridget asked, sitting up. "That's the worst part! It happened so long ago and _now_ is the time I choose to remember? What is _wrong _with me? This is all my fault. If I weren't.-If I didn't. If it weren't for me she would have been alive. She should be alive. She should be here with you, not me. I murdered her and stole her life and-"

"No, please don't say that," Harry asked. He was shocked by her reasoning, and her words hurt him in more than one ways. Still, he had to help her. "This is what she wanted, remember? Us, together. She knew we needed each other, and she was willing to do whatever it took-" Harry choked on his words. He didn't want to think about it.

"I didn't deserve it. I don't deserve this. You deserve to be happy with her and the rest of your family. She deserves it. Your parents deserve it. You deserve it. You deserve to be the happiest person on the earth."

"And without you I would never be," Harry rolled Bridget over, cupping her face in his hands so her eyes aligned with his. "If you think I deserve to be happy then you have to stay with me. As long as you are here I am the happiest person ever. So if you really want me to be happy then you'll stop this nonsense and be with me-whether you deserve it or not-which you do," Harry tried to explain, but the pain and old memories were fogging his brain. He was tired and the night air was confusing him.

"Oh, Harry. I just want her back. I miss her. So much. I never really mourned for her. I was always so caught up in what else was going on, and it was the same with Draco and everybody else. You don't understand! They died-all of them-for me! They died for me and I didn't care! I just went on! I'm living the life they should be living! They're gone because of me!" With that Bridget clutched onto Harry, burying her face in his chest. She looked up at him, and Harry expected to see tears, but he saw nothing. Just pain.

"No, Bridget. You have to stop blaming yourself for what Voldemort does. You are not him. You are different. I don't know what I could say to make you believe that, but you have to. If Voldemort kills it is not you're fault. If you are the inspiration of his murder that is not your fault either. You didn't ask for this. You didn't ask to be born. He did this, and it's probably the only good thing he did," Harry explained, rubbing her back.

"It doesn't take away the pain. It doesn't cure the guilt."

"I know. I know."

"I just want this all to go away. Make it go away," Bridget murmured.

"I wish I could," Harry sighed.

"Harry-"

"Sh, Bridget, it's okay. Just get some sleep. You can tell me about the nightmares in the morning. Sleep well, my angel," Harry mumbled, tracing circles in her back

When Bridget had stopped shaking and calmed he slowly lay her back down in bed, and softly walked over to the loveseat in the corner of the room. He would stay with her tonight.

--

Bridget was only half awake when Harry left to room.

"Stay here. You need your rest. I'll get your homework," he whispered, kissing her forehead. She mumbled a reply, but as soon as Harry left she shot up in bed. Running a hand through her hair, she squeezed her eyes shut; maybe if she did it long enough her nightmares would go away. She didn't want to continue to worry Harry, but despite his truthful words she could not escape the images. Her stomach growled, but she would not eat. Her eyes ached to sleep, but she didn't want to dream.

So, in a rush of adrenaline she grabbed a coat, threw herself out of her room, and started running. She forced herself not to think, but to focus on the wind in her ears and her feet against the cold ground. She ran all around Hogwarts, away from everything she knew, and out onto the grounds. She ran there as well, never stopping. She was always tired, and with each step she felt like fainting, but she would not stop.

Days without running and food had made her insane, and running was the only thing she knew. So she ran, and she ran until and she couldn't run anymore. And even still she jobbed further, further, until finally she crumbled to the ground, barely breathing. She fought the sleep, but could not win as her eyes closed and the darkness prevailed.

--

"Ron, 'Mione, I don't know what to do! She looked to, and it sounded-" Harry buried his head in his hands.

"I dunno, mate, I think the best you can do is just be there for her. She loves you; that should be enough to keep her sane," Ron said, shrugging.

"Don't you think it's a little weird?" Hermione asked.

"What do you mean? Of course nightmares like these are weird!"

"That's not what I mean. From what you've told me it sounds like it has something to with Lillian. Why would it be happening now, though?" Hermione pondered.

"Maybe she was just distracted earlier," Harry mused.

"Maybe. Do you think it has something to do with V-Voldemort?" Hermione asked.

"Possibly. I asked her, but she didn't think so," Harry told them.

"It doesn't sound like she was coherent, though. You should wait until you talk to her. Wait till she's slept and eaten," Ron suggested.

"It's scary, though. It's like she's sick, and I don't want to lose her."

"You won't lose her. She's strong. She'll be fine, right Ron?" Hermione asked. Ron didn't answer. "Ron?" she prodded.

"Harry-" Ron started, and they all turned to were he was gazing off to. It took no longer than a second for Harry to get up and throw himself across the grassy grounds to were he saw the frail body, her blond hair limply blowing in the wind.


	80. Misery Loves Company

**

* * *

**

Disclaimer: Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Bridget groaned, turning over on the bed, almost falling off. Luckily, Harry had been staring at her for quite some time now and steadied her weak body.

"She's awake!" he exclaimed, eyes bright.

"Shut up," she mumbled, burying herself in a pillow.

"Bridget," he whispered, voice laced with concern.

"Go away."

"What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You have to."

"Why?" she whined, but her tone was angry, and as she turned to face Harry her features showed displeasure. He sighed, anticipating another fight between the two.

"Because you're not okay. I want to know why," Harry ordered stubbornly.

"Too bad. I don't want to tell you," she said, sitting up in bed only to fall back down in exhaustion. Harry's hands immediately went to her body, but she pushed him away. Hurt by this, but also angry, Harry glared.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because you don't need to know!" she yelled as loudly as she could from bed.

"Says who?"

"Mr. Potter," a calm voice said, preventing Bridget from retorting. Harry's eyes turned toward Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore, the owner of the voice. He raised his head, straightening his posture. Dumbledore let a small smile escape. "I don't think it's really in Ms. Riddle's best interest for you two to be quarrelling right now. Perhaps we shall save that for when she's a bit better nourished?" he suggested. Harry nodded in defeat, getting up and walking over to the nearest bed. At this point Madame Pomfrey stepped in, handing Bridget a number of thick, unpleasant potions she indecorously refused.

"I'm fine, really! Just a little hungry."

"All the same I think you should," the healer grunted, "drink this!" she ordered, finally forcing the vile drink down Bridget's throat. Her nose scrunched in discontent as she swallowed, but her mouth was kept shut.

"Mr. Potter, would it be too much trouble for me to ask you to go into the kitchens and get Ms. Riddle some food?" Dumbledore asked. Harry sighed, realizing why he was being sent out, but obliged.

"Yes sir," he said, averting his eyes from Bridget, who was probably smirking in mirth.

As Harry continued to walk to and from the kitchens his mood shifted. His anger was fading, being replaced by worry. What if Voldemort really was sending Bridget nightmares? What would this mean? He hurried his steps, waiting just outside the door to see if anything interesting was being said in conversation.

"Well, Ms. Riddle, you're fine, actually. Just try to eat more. Get some rest. You're just tired, my dear. This could have happened to anybody," Madame Pomfrey assured.

"Thank you, Madame," Bridget replied; Harry could hear the grin in her voice. Anger returned, boiling in his veins. None of it was true. Caught up in the moment, Harry stormed into the room, dropped the food on a bed, and turned to face Bridget.

"That's not true and you know it," he bellowed.

"Of course it's true! Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because you didn't just forget a few meals! You didn't just stay up too late doing homework! It's those nightmares! They're making you sick!" Harry proclaimed. Bridget froze, eyes filled with hate.

"You don't know anything. Forget about the nightmares-they don't concern you," Bridget growled.

"Of course they do!" Harry corrected.

"How?" Bridget shrieked.

"Because _you're_ having them!"

"That doesn't mean you should bother thinking over them! I'm my own person, you know, so don't go claiming things you don't own!"

"Bridget, I saw you. You weren't," Harry paused, lowering his voice. "All week it was like you were dead, and then I found you screaming at night and-" Harry stopped, sinking onto a bed. "What's going on with you?"

"They're just nightmares. They'll go away," she insisted.

"But what if they don't? What if they're from Volde-" Harry was cut off.

"They're not."

"I think we'll leave that up to me," Dumbledore interjected. Both Harry and Bridget turned to face their headmasters, embarrassed by their rudeness.

"Sorry sir," Bridget whispered, Harry nodding with her.

"So, it seems you've been having nightmares. Tell me about them," Dumbledore asked. Bridget sighed; she could not refuse him. So she told.

As Bridget finished her slightly edited tale silence rang out through the room. The blonde girl sighed, examining the faces of her listeners. Dumbledore was, as usual, very calm and thoughtful. On the other hand, Harry just looked shocked and afraid; it was hard to tell what he was really thinking. Finally, her headmaster spoke.

"Well, Ms. Riddle, it seems that I have good news and bad news; which would you like to hear first?"

"Good," she replied immediately.

"Your dreams are indeed, not from Voldemort." At this statement Bridget exhaled a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

"And the bad?"

"There is no certainty that these nightmares will stop. We can give you sleeping potion, but there is still a large chance that your nightmarish dreams won't go away," he continued to explain. Bridget opened her mouth to speak, but closed it, looking down at her hands.

"What does this all mean?" she asked. Dumbledore grinned.

"I can not tell you that."

"What?" Bridget croaked. "You mean, you have no idea whatsoever why I'm getting these dreams?"

"Oh, I can tell you why you are getting them, but what they mean is up to you," Dumbledore explained with a wink. Frustration etched itself on Bridget's features.

"So why am I getting these dreams?" she demanded.

"Do you remember in the beginning of the year the Special Effects class you took concerning your ability not to feel any pain?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling in delight. Bridget frowned.

"No."

"I do," Harry interpolated, a slight blush creeping on his cheeks. At this Bridget's eyes came together in confusion.

"Perhaps I shall have to explain again," Dumbledore sighed. "There is a theory that when two exceptionally powerful wizards come together two children are born instead of one. Twins, if you will. Overall, these two twins are fairly average wizards, but there are a few exceptions.

"For one, it was seem that they're immune to any sort of physical pain. It would also appear that once they come together their powers merge, making them potentially very dangerous to any enemies. I believe this is why your brother was separated from you.

"Voldemort saw the dangers if both of you were to turn against him; he noticed to subtle rebellion, and in fear that it would grow and influence Mr. Riddle he sent him away."

"Right. I knew all of that, but what does that have to do with my nightmares?" Bridget asked, recalling the day in class. Because of this, she felt her cheeks turn red, remembering other things suggested by her headmaster. Ironically enough, they were things Bridget had recently thought about herself, but not in this context, and it was certainly something she would rather not voice allowed.

"I won't go into much detail, but the chemical balance of your emotions mixed with your power can cause strange, sometimes prophetic dreams. I can only assume that with the return of your brother and possible recent drama in your life that it's simply showing through in your dreams."

"But nothing out of the ordinary has happened!" Bridget exclaimed.

"We fought," Harry uttered.

"Exactly, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Seth-" Harry was cut off.

"Don't even go there," Bridget ordered, shaking her head.

"Ms. Riddle," Dumbledore started, "You're life is extremely dramatic and dangerous. Because of your circumstances emotional hardships can magnify at times; even the meaningless conversations can bother you. With the constant worry of war at hand these almost normal events and conversations of daily life may push you over the edge at times, especially with the return of Aiden. There is no definite cause," Dumbledore explained. Bridget bit her lip, ran a hand through her hair, and nodded.

"But sir, does this happen to Aiden as well?" Bridget asked.

"Not that I have knowledge of. I imagine if he does they are fairly normal; his life has been rather standard, and there isn't as much to haunt him."

"Okay, thank you, sir."

"I believe I must be going now. If you have any questions feel free to stop by my office, but for now I think you can work out the rest of the answers on your own," Dumbledore assumed. With that he got up and swiftly walked out the door, leaving Bridget alone with Harry with the exception of Madame Pomfrey forcing potion down a patient with the stomach flue.

--

"Say something," Bridget pleaded, for Harry's everlasting silence was making her anxious.

"You aren't angry I told Professor Dumbledore about the nightmares?"

"No," Bridget admitted. "I'm glad I know what they are now."

Harry grinned, walking over and sitting next to Bridget. He wrapped a strong arm around her, whispering in her ear.

"Just forget about them. They've no relevance to reality."

"I know," Bridget sighed. "But it doesn't stop me from feeling guilty."

"Well, maybe if you found out the reason for the dreams-"

"I know why." Harry raised an eyebrow. "It's not like this guilt is new, you know. I guess after Seth, and the talk we had by the lake-"

"What was bad about that?" Harry inquired.

"Nothing," Bridget grinned. "I just feel like I don't deserve any of this."

"You don't need me to tell you that you do," Harry murmured into her hair.

"I know."

"Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow and I love you," Harry ordered, tucking Bridget in.

"I know," she whispered after he'd left.

--

"Potter, where's my sister?"

"Where have you been?" Harry questioned, surprised to see Aiden, whom had disappeared for what seemed like forever. At the question, Aiden's eyes turned dark, his glare intensifying.

"That's none of your business. I happened to have had some work out of school for my father."

"Voldemort?" Ron asked, eyes wide.

"No, stupid. My adopted father," Aiden rolled his eyes.

"Is he being sarcastic?" Ron whispered to Hermione, who slapped him upside the head.

"No."

"Ouch, 'Mione, that hurt!"

"Okay, will somebody _please_ just tell me where Bridget is?" Aiden asked, exasperated.

"Probably getting ready. You know she was in the hospital wing? And got proposed to?" Harry informed the irritated brother, feeling a bit annoyed himself at Aiden's sudden disappearance and recurrence.

"What?" he exploded. "Potter, I swear-"

"Not me!" Harry interrupted, face innocent. "Seth."

"Seth?" Aiden questioned, glaring in his direction. "I'll deal with him later," he muttered before stalking off, probably in search for his sister.

"Bridget will be out this morning if you're looking for her," Harry called after Aiden, but the boy held no indication that he heard him.

"Well then," Ron noted, raising his eyebrows at Aiden's retreating figure.

"That was weird," Harry mumbled, turning back to his food. Ron nodded, picking up a piece of toast only to drop it in shock.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed.

"Ron," Hermione sighed, but he ignored her.

"What the-"

"Mine," Bridget stated, coming out of nowhere and snatching up the toast.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"I wanted toast today, and I knew that you'd eat it all, so I hexed it," Bridget explained.

"I do _not_ eat all the toast," Ron huffed.

"Well, that, and you've been digging around in my stuff," Bridget shrugged.

"Oh," Ron blushed. "Well-"

"It's okay, Ron," she giggled, ruffling his hair. "I've just decided to hex everything that's mine so that when anybody touches it they'll be shocked."

"Oh, well, that makes sense," Ron said, voice full of sarcasm as he grumbled about his lack of toast.

"Honestly, Ron, just have mine," Hermione fussed, tossing him her half eaten toast. Ron grinned stupidly.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, kissing her cheek. She rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same.

"Speaking of which-" Bridget started.

"Nobody was speaking of anything," Harry interrupted. Bridget ignored him, pointing her wand at the poor boy.

"Perfect. And my work here is done," she exhaled, sitting down on a bench. Harry started incredulously at her.

"What did you do?" he questioned.

"Nothing. You're fine," Bridget assured, but to no avail. Harry simply raised his eyebrows before returning back to his breakfast.

"Oh, by the way, Aiden was looking for you," Hermione told Bridget.

"Aiden?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. I haven't seen him in.. ages," Bridget muttered.

"I know," Hermione agreed.

"He said he had some stuff to do for his adopted father," Ron explained.

"Huh."

"Hey Harry, you still up for some quidditch today?" a voice yelled, slapping Harry on the back. A split second later the boy flinched, rubbing his hand.

"Yeah-Dean, what's wrong with your face?" Harry asked, examining Dean's scrunched up face.

"What's wrong with my face? What's wrong with you?"

"What?"

"Ron, touch him, see what I mean!" Dean ordered. Ron obeyed, only to pull back in hand in pain.

"Ouch! Right where the toast was-" he froze mid-sentence. "Bridget."

"Yes?"

"Is that what you were doing before? Hexing me?" Harry demanded, glaring playfully.

"Maybe…"

"So now I'm untouchable?"

"Exactly. Because you're _mine,"_ Bridget joked, nuzzling herself into his shoulder. Harry didn't respond.

"What happened to all those lectures about claiming things that aren't mine, especially people?" Harry queried. Bridget shrugged.

"I was just giving you a taste of your own medicine, dear boy!"

"You better run, girl, because when I catch up with you-" he didn't have to finish; Bridget was already gone.

"They're so perfect together," Hermione mused.

"I know," Ron agreed.

"And Harry's just so happy."

"Actually, Hermione, he looks pretty angry," Ron joked, laughing as Harry yelled at a snickering Bridget, who was overjoyed at the fact that Lavender Brown had just brushed past Harry and gotten shocked.

"Oh, Ron-" Hermione was cut off by Ron's lips on hers; all previous thoughts of vexation were forgotten.

"I know he's happy, especially now," Ron teased, a mischievous grin on his face. Hermione turned to face her two best friends, only to see them in a full on lip lock. Her eyes rolled as Ron continued. "But you're right. It's like she's somehow given him hope; I don't want to even think about what would happen if he didn't have her, or lost her," Ron pondered, shuddering.

"Especially since this year things have gotten," Hermione didn't finish.

"Worse," Ron sighed, dancing around the subject of the recent prophesy lingering in their minds.

"I'm just glad that she's okay," Hermione concluded. Harry had informed the two friends of the truth behind Bridget's nightmares, relieving both of them of any grief or worry they had on the matter.

"Definitely. And you know, Harry's good for her too," Ron added.

"Yeah," Hermione consented. At this point the mail came in, an owl dropping the paper in front of Hermione. She picked it up, flipping through the pages whilst listening to Ron's banter.

"What's great about the whole thing is not only has she saved him, but he's saved her."

"Well let's hope she's up to a little more saving," Hermione whispered, her facial expression changing from happiness to fear.

"Wha-?"

"Ron, look!" Hermione croaked, shoving the paper in his face.

_**Recent Information of Prophecy Confirms Our Worst Fears:**__ Harry Potter will not vanquish the Dark Lord._

"Hermione," Ron breathed. "He can't see this."

"But he will."

"Who will what?" Harry asked, sitting down. His hair was disheveled, and his tie was slightly off center, though whether the cause was from running around or other activities was uncertain.

"What will who?" Bridget interjected, following Harry's example. She looked similar to him: untidy and flustered.

"We'll tell you in class," Hermione muttered, gathering her things as she set off for her first class, Ron trailing behind, eyes still on the article.

"What was that about? We just sat down!" Bridget exclaimed. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know, but it doesn't sound good."

"Uh-oh, let's go find out," Bridget suggested, jumping up and following Hermione and Ron's trail.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, but his instincts told him he didn't want to know.


	81. The Idea

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

_**Recent Information of Prophecy Confirms Our Worst Fears:**__ Harry Potter will not vanquish the Dark Lord._

_Recently a brave young man confronted me on some dangerous information-information that must have only come from the inside. A few months back a prophecy was made concerning none other but Harry Potter, our Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived, the one we believed would save us all from the Dark Lord._

_Until now._

_The prophecy was filled with negative news, talks of betrayal, bad commitment, and most importantly, the death of Harry Potter to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Read on, only if you can bear it._

He will betray them.

The one they thought was there friend

The one they willingly opened up to will betray them

Because they took no caution

And only because of the binding commitment The Chosen One Made

The Dark Lord shall not be overcome by The Boy Who Lived

_It is obvious what this means, though none of us are brave enough to admit it, we knew it from the very beginning. The survival of Harry Potter was a fluke, a mishap, and now this prophecy has confirmed our worst fears: He is no longer anything special. We're, to put it simply, doomed._

_Do not fear, though. In another recent interview with the ministry officials they informed us that they had suspicions something like this would happen; the truth would come out and it wouldn't be pleasant. So they thought ahead, and efficiently found a secret weapon, a Plan B, if you will. We are unsure of how productive this will be, but by now it's all we've got left. With the war taking dangerous turns there is little left for the common to do. It's out of our hands. Let's just hope this ends soon, one way or the other._

_-An article written by Rita Skeeter_

"Do you have any idea who told her?" Bridget asked, slumping into Harry's arms. It seemed fanatical that just this morning everything seemed happy; Bridget had momentarily forgotten about the dreams along with the rest of her worries in opt for spending time with her friends. Was fate really that cruel that it had to ruin what little happiness and hope they had left?

"No," Harry replied curtly, throwing the paper into the fire of the Gryffindor Common Room. It was late by now, and the rest of the house had gone to sleep. That left the two alone on the couch, free to discuss what had been written in the paper just this morning.

"It's so accurate," Bridget whispered, her voice lingering in the emptiness. That was really the scary part; the _Daily Prophet_ wrote crap like this all the time-they wavered between Harry being insane or their savior-but this time all of it was true. Not one word was a lie.

"It means they've got somebody on the inside," Harry stated the obvious.

"And by they-"

"The ministry, Voldemort, anybody who damn pleases, it seems," Harry spoke belligerently.

"What are we going to do?" Bridget whined, burying herself in her hands.

"They isn't much left _to_ do," Harry responded. The fire smoldered weakly, the light fading from the room. "I mean, by this article coming out it's just the first step of the prophecy completed."

"Don't say that!" Bridget hissed, body going rigid in Harry's arms. He made no effort to comfort her.

"Don't you see? There's somebody-one of our friends-who is willing enough to betray us by giving our secrets to the press. Just like the prophecy said," Harry said, his voice laced with venom.

"Harry," Bridget breathed.

"What?" he riposted.

"You can't let it control you. There's still time, you know. We could-" she cut off, staring down sadly.

"We could what?" Harry countered. "Half of it has already been completed. Now all I have to do is sit and wait for Voldemort to come find me and kill me. At least it'll be over," he muttered, the last part coming out of his mouth like acid. Bridget shook herself from his arms, mouth open.

"No."

"What?" Harry asked, confusion creeping onto his features.

"You're not just going to give up. I won't let you," Bridget ordered, standing up and placing a hand on her hip.

"You can't stop me."

"Watch me," Bridget snapped, and then sat down on the table in front of him, staring him right in the eye. "You have to get over this. You have to keep fighting, living your life. It's not over yet. You have to be strong, because I sure as hell can't be strong for the both of us.

"You don't think I'm worried too? You don't think it's tearing me apart inside; it always has been! Just because the world now knows doesn't make everything different. It doesn't change anything."

"That's the thing, Bridget, because the world knows it means the prophecy's coming true!" Harry exclaimed.

"Ignore the prophecy!" Bridget screeched.

"How can I? You read the words as plain as I did 'The Dark Lord shall not be overcome by the Boy Who Lived.' I'm going to die!" Harry yelled. Time froze. Bridget's breath hitched, and she looked down. The fact had always been apparent in her mind, but nobody, especially not Harry, had ever said it straight to her face.

She felt her heart breaking into a million pieces, whatever strength and purpose she had a few moments ago disincarnating. Her mind was racing from fear, and she felt her world crumbling down, everything slipping away.

"I can't stay with you anymore," she whispered, turning on her heel and walking towards the portrait hole.

"Wait, don't go!" Harry called out, reaching towards his departing girlfriend. She turned back to him, pain etched in the lines on her face, eyes open in angry and fear. "You're all I have left."

And that was when the idea struck Harry Potter for the first time.

"Promise me you'll stop," Bridget sighed, returning to the safety of her boyfriend's arms.

"You make me sound like a drug addict," Harry joked, nuzzling his face in her hair. Bridget made an awkward whiney sound, pushing Harry away without really wanting him to go.

"Okay, okay," he laughed, holding his hands up in defeat.

"Hey, come back!" Bridget giggled, crawling back into his arms. He laughed, and for a moment the rest of the world disappeared; it was just Bridget and Harry, Harry and Bridget.

"I'll try to thing positive, if you insist," Harry commented.

"Good."

"Happy now?"

"No," Bridget retorted, and then she pressed her lips to Harry's. The kiss was tense, though, a simple distraction from the possible death that lingered in both the two lovers' minds. Bridget clung to it, though, promising herself there would be many more after this, promising that this would not be the last time their lips meant, but knowing it just might be. As the kiss broke, Harry gazed into the fire, avoiding his girlfriend's eyes.

"We'll just play it by year," he spoke softly, making himself comfortable on the couch, for he knew no sleep would come to him tonight. "There's still hope," he murmured, and by the bright look in Bridget's eyes as he spoke the world he almost believed it.

It was then that the idea became final in Harry Potter's mind.

The comfortable silence had left Harry and Bridget consumed in their thoughts, the only noise being the soft patter of their feet as Harry walked Bridget to her room.

"Tell me what it was like," Harry pleaded.

"What?" Bridget asked, looking up at him with curiosity.

"Being one of them."

"One of," she paused, thinking for a moment, "them."

"Please?" Harry asked, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

"Why do you want to know?"

Harry paused, not answering right away. He wasn't sure himself, really, but he felt he just needed to know what it was like to be around his worst enemy constantly, to work for him, to be his spawn.

"I'm not sure, but I can't understand why you stood with him for so long; why didn't you just leave?" Harry asked.

"Fear," Bridget replied, shrugging.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Bridget sighed, a small smile appearing on her face. "Do you remember in the beginning of the year when you were closed minded and stupid, thinking all Death Eaters were the same?" Bridget teased.

"Yes," Harry grimaced. "I hated you then."

"Yes, we do have the best times together, don't we?" Bridget joked, nudging Harry in the side.

"Go on," he urged, rolling his eyes.

"Well, there are actually many different kinds of death eaters, surprising as it may be, and I'm not sure exactly how you get drawn into that sort of thing, but I imagine it's something similar to being offered drugs," Bridget laughed, and Harry joined in weakly, recognizing her desire to avoid the subject. Regretfully, she continued, though, her face becoming dark.

"There are the hardcore death eaters, awkward people who actually like being Voldemort slaves," she laughed, trying to lighten the mood, trying to make it more bearable to talk about. "Anyway, most people aren't like that. It's.. hard to explain," Bridget sighed.

"Try," Harry muttered.

"See, once you've got the dark mark you just start listening to Voldemort, because if you don't he'll kill you. It doesn't matter who it is that you're hurting, you just do it because if you don't you'll die. And if you don't die you'll be tortured.

"It gets to the point where you just want to die, but you don't. You continue to do what he says out of fear of the consequences, because in reality, you've got nothing better to live for," Bridget finished. It was silent for a while; Harry had nothing to say. The world in which his girlfriend had been living in was not worthy of her; she deserved better. As they approached the doorway to Bridget's room she muttered the password, stepping inside.

"Goodnight," Harry whispered, kissing her briefly.

"Sweet dreams," she sighed, but just as the door was about to be shut Harry spoke up.

"What made you change?" he asked, heart racing.

"Change?" she questioned.

"What made you face the fear of your father and defy him?"

Bridget paused, staring bluntly into Harry's eyes.

"Simple. I found something better to live for."

At that moment the idea became a plan of action in Harry Potter's mind.

Harry ran back to the common room, quickly shouting the password ignoring the fat lady's comments, and rushed up to his room. He threw open his drunk and started digging, glasses askew and hair even more messy than usual.

"Come on, come on, where is it?" he muttered to himself.

"Where's what?" Ron mumbled from his pillow.

"Nothing; go back to sleep, Ron," Harry ordered, brushing off his friend. Ron glanced at the clock.

"Bloody Hell, Harry, it's two in the morning! What are you doing up?"

"I have to find something," Harry informed his best friend, throwing his clothes all over the room in desperation.

"Find what? What could be so important that you can't wait till morning?" Ron questioned.

"My mum's ring," Harry sighed, sitting back in his heels as he held the precious case in his hands.

"Your mum has a ring?"

"'Course, Ron," Harry joked, ecstatic that he had found the prized item.

"What do you need a ring for, mate?"

"I'm going to ask Bridget to marry me."

--

"You're _what?"_ Hermione shrieked.

"Shh," Harry hissed. "Keep it down!"

"Harry, are you insane?"

"No, of course not, what would make you say that-"

"You're going to get _married!"_

"Look, Hermione, I love her and I know she loves me-"

"But what if she still says no?" Hermione countered. Ron snorted.

"She won't say no," Ron was about too add something else, but Hermione's glare sent him back in his seat.

"You're so young, Harry, I just don't think it's a good idea!" Hermione said.

"Why not?"

"What if you guys break up?"

"We're not going to break up. Ever. I love her, and I want to be with her forever," Harry spoke with determination glinting in his eyes,

"But what about money and housing?" Hermione added, concerned.

"I've got money," Harry stated.

"She doesn't."

"We can get jobs," Harry suggested.

"Harry, she hasn't even finished a year at Hogwarts. She was in Azkaban for a few months, you know!"

"She's smart, you know that. I saw you tutor her," Harry defended.

"But Harry, why can't you wait? What difference does it make if it's now or later?" Hermione asked.

"Because there isn't going to be a later," Harry said darkly, feeling a built guilty for being so pessimistic when he promised he wouldn't. "When I die I want to look Voldemort right in the eye and think 'I lived a good life. I tried my best. And I found love, got married, and lived a happy life with my beautiful wife, who just happens to be your daughter.'" Harry said, eyes glazing.

"Harry, please," Hermione begged.

"Hermione," Harry started. "You and Ron are my best mates. You've been with me since the beginning, and you're both equally important. I can't do this without your support," Harry said, running a hand through his messy hair.

"You got mine!" Ron exclaimed, giving his friend a high five. Hermione sighed.

"Good luck. We're here for you, no matter what happens."


	82. Paralyzed

**Disclaimer: Potterverse belongs to Rowling**

* * *

Bridget had not seen Harry all day. He'd left her a note on her bed stand in the morning telling her to meet him on the lake, but since then he'd disappeared.

"Guys, where's Harry?" she asked Hermione and Ron at lunch. They looked at each other, sharing a secret glance of knowing, and then shrugged back at her.

"Probably talking to Dumbledore," Hermione stated.

"Or Hagrid," Ron added.

"Why?" Bridget asked, confused.

"Oops, I'm late for class. Bye Bridget!" Hermione exclaimed, hurrying out of her seat.

"Let me walk you," Ron called after her, following. Bridget frowned, feeling out of the circle. Why wouldn't they tell her where Harry was? Worry ran through Bridget as she ran a hand through her hair, getting up and walking to the common room. Her mind danced around possibilities.

Did his absence concern Voldemort, and if it did, why wouldn't they tell her about it? Was their friendship not as strong as Bridget had hoped?

"Hey Aiden," she said, sitting down to her brother on the front steps of Hogwarts later that day. He turned to look at her, smiling.

"Hey, you okay? I heard you had some issues while I was gone," he said, pulling her into a hug. She nodded, shrugging.

"I guess, but I'm fine. How was seeing you father?" she asked, curious. Aiden had turned out to be a great brother, a pleasant surprise, but there were a few fuzzy spots. Something in him just didn't click.

"It was nice, I suppose. Wasn't really a big deal, but I have class, so I'll talk to you later?" he asked, getting up. Bridget shook her head.

"Tonight Harry asked me to meet him somewhere, so I'm assuming I'm busy."

"Oh?" Aiden asked, stopping. "Do you know what it's about?"

"No," Bridget shook her head. "Have you seen him, though?" she added.

"He's been around," Aiden shrugged before walking away, smiling. What would take place between his sister and Harry would either be very good or very bad, but at this point he was certain they were the same thing.

--

Dinner had proved to be uneventful, only Hermione showing up.

"Are you sure you don't know what he's planning? I'm getting anxious!" Bridget joked. Hermione laughed, shaking her head.

"Can't you wait just fifteen more minutes?"

"No!" Bridget exclaimed. "He hasn't even been in classes. Is something wrong. Is he hurt?"

"If he was hurt you'd be in the hospital wing, not on the grounds," Hermione explained.

"Oh, then where's Ron?" Bridget demanded, raising an eyebrow. Hermione just sighed, getting up.

"I'm leaving you on your own again. Your presence is becoming tedious," she said sarcastically, running out of the great hall. Bridget's jaw dropped, and she crossed her arms and huffed before getting out of her seat and walking over to Aiden, who was quietly reading at the Slytherin table.

"Have all my friends just decided I'm no longer worthy of their attention?" she complained, resting her head on his shoulder. He shook her off.

"Don't you have some place to be?" he asked, a little too grumpily.

"What's your problem?" Bridget asked, wondering why everybody was acting so weird today. "Are you in on the little secret too?"

"No, Bridget, I'm just stressed right now. Don't you have other friends?" he asked, sighing. Bridget scowled.

"Guess I'll be early for Harry," she scowled, getting up again. What was wrong with the school today?

"You do that," he muttered, returning to his book.

"Don't look so smug!" she called back to him, entering the halls. She decided to stop at the bathroom first, just to buy some time. She didn't want to be _too _early.

Finally, she couldn't take it any longer and ran down to the grounds, by the lake, where Harry would be. She saw him from a few feet away, pacing. She brought her speed down to a slow tread, furrowing her eyebrows as she approached him.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked, smiling as he wrapped his arms around her.

"You're early," he commented after pressing his lips quickly to hers.

"I know. You left me hanging for a whole day," she exclaimed, playfully slapping his arm. "I was lost without you."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized, smiling.

"You should be," Bridget proclaimed, laughing. She was just happy to be with him again, and dying to know what the huge deal was.

"Was your day alright then, other than that?" he asked, sitting down. Bridget followed his example, rolling her eyes.

"No," she retorted, kicking off her shoes and dropping her feet in the water. "Everyone was acting really weird, even Aiden," she sighed, resting against his shoulder. Harry wrapped his arm around her, bringing her body closer to his.

"Weird. Maybe it was just as off day," he commented.

"Don't play innocent with me, Mr. Potter. This is your fault. What's going on?" she whispered, looking up at him. His eyes danced with amusement.

"Nothing," he promised, kissing her forehead.

"Then why weren't you in any of your classes, huh?" she asked, glaring.

"I had to talk to Dumbledore about something. Okay? It was no big deal," he explained, mentally begging her to drop the subject.

"It was a big deal. What could you discuss that takes all day? Besides, I saw him and not you."

"I will tell you later; I promise," he told her resting his head on hers. Harry inhaled happily, the smell of her shampoo bringing ecstasy to his heart.

"Fine," she obliged, kicking her feet in the cold water.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Harry asked suddenly, and Bridget felt him smile into her hair.

"Of course," she replied, smirking. "I was so afraid of you."

"I was scared of you too, you know. You were very pretty then; what happened?" he teased. Bridget scoffed, and soon they found themselves running around the grounds, rough housing and fooling around. Out of nowhere Harry stopped, though, holding his arms open for Bridget to run into. She laughed into his chest before Harry brought her chin up, looking deeply into her eyes.

"I think I always loved you," he whispered, piercing the blonde beauty in front of him with his eyes. She shied away, snorting.

"Um, where you have been this last year?" she asked. Harry laughed.

"I remember lying awake the first night I met you, amazed to have a relative that was alive, and then, intrigued by the completely mental girl that accompanied her," he told Bridget, brushing a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, and once you found out you hated me!" she defended, befuddled by everything he was saying.

"Not for long."

"Was there a day that didn't go by without us fighting?" Bridget asked, teasing him.

"I'm being serious here, Bridget, and you are just making things difficult," he scolded.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Bridget mocked. "Continue."

"After I got to know you I only hated you because of internal conflicts," he said, his voice ridiculously serious.

"Oh really?"

"Of course!" Harry exclaimed, fake appalled. "How could I feel so fondly of you when you were my enemies daughter? And then you got that boyfriend!" Harry shook his head, eyes filled with disgust.

"You never liked him, Harry. Can't blame me for that." Bridget told her boyfriend as they walked hand in hand across the grounds.

"Hey, I didn't have a problem with him until you guys went out."

"Yeah, and then you got a girlfriend," Bridget reminded him, remembering Sam.

"I was in self denial. Being the chosen one and such, I'm allowed to have such angsty emotions," Harry argued.

"Whatever," Bridget said, waving him off.

"Besides, you had to love me while going out with Seth, right?" Harry inquired, eyebrow raised.

"No!" Bridget shouted, and then smiled impishly. "Yes, maybe, just a little," she accepted, turning away from Harry. He chuckled, using the hand that wasn't hold hers to ruffle her hair.

"Have I told you I love you today?" he muttered.

"No, in fact, you haven't."

"I love you," he whispered in her ear. Bridget shivered, though not from the cold.

"I love you too."

"And that is why, Ms. Riddle, I have something to ask you."

Harry turned to face Bridget, taking both her hands in his.

"Now, Bridget, this may come as a shock to you, and that is why I ask you do keep an open mind, understand?" Bridget nodded. "Do you think you can do that for me?"

"Yes, sir," Bridget proclaimed, and then Harry's smile faded, his expression turning serious.

"Please, be serious," he pleaded.

"You aren't breaking up with me, are you?" she asked. Harry laughed at the irony, shaking his head.

"Bridget Hope Riddle, I love you," he said, looking into her eyes. "I love you more than life itself."

"I love you too, Harry, what's this about?" she asked, an uneasy smile on her face. What was he doing?

"I know we've only known each other a year, and technically we've only been going out a month, but that doesn't mean anything, right?"

"Right," Bridget agreed.

"I also know that we're only seventeen, but to be honest I don't know how much longer I'm going to live. I definitely want to spend every last moment with you, though. Officially," he added as an afterthought, and then one of his hands dropped from hers, reaching into his pocket.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Bridget asked, her heart beating widely in her chest. She had to breath out of her mouth to understand what was going on as Harry dropped her other hand, opening a small case he'd brought out of his pocket. As he opened it Bridget recognized it as his mother's ring, the one she had given at Lillian's funeral, so many months ago.

"Bridget, I want you to have this-"

"That's your mother's ring, Harry, I can't take-" she cut him off, but was ignored, as she became hot, butterflies erupting in her stomach. Everything was speeding up, her blood flowing widely through her veins, her head become fuzzy with adrenaline as suddenly Harry was on one knee, looking up at her. Her eyes widened as she looked down at him in horror.

"Bridget Hope Riddle, will you marry me?"

The world seemed to stop as Harry finished his sentence, and all Bridget could do was stare down at him in stupidity, trying to breath. She swallowed the rock that had appeared in her through, surprised at how hard it was, as her brain tried to comprehend what had just happened, and more importantly, what to do next.

At this point her body acted on impulse, all control being lost as her legs took off.

She was running, running, running

Down the grounds

Towards the woods

Away from Harry and everything he had just said to her, everything he'd offered.

Bridget Riddle was running away, just like she had so many times before. Because in all honesty, when it came down to it, that was all she knew how to do. She didn't even turn back to see Harry's broken face, dumbfounded and lost, or to remind herself why exactly she was doing this. As she entered the forbidden forest she just did what she did best.

She ran.


	83. Emergency

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

"Hey Man! I wasn't expecting you this early, you know-" Ron Weasley trailed off, deciding not to go into detail of _exactly_ what he'd been assuming.

"Shut up," Harry snapped, throwing himself on to the bed. Ron set his book down it wasn't like he was actually reading it anyway and gazed at his best friend, eyes knit together in confusion.

"What's up?"

"It's over," Harry moaned, turning his back on Ron.

"What?" Ron shrieked, ignoring the way his voice cracked over the vowel. "She said no?"

"No."

"The what-"

"She didn't say anything, mate," Harry whispered, rolling over. "She just stood there, staring, and then she ran away. She just _left."_

"That sounds like her," Ron mumbled, but he knew that wouldn't help.

"The funny thing is it's true," Harry whispered to himself, before raising his voice. "I should have known this would happen. She's so damn predictable. In a bad way. I'm an idiot."

"Quiet down, mate, or the whole dorm will know," Ron hissed.

"Might as well. You're great Harry Potter, that chosen one, well not only can he _not_ save the world, but he can't even maintain a steady relationship with a girl as low as Bridget Riddle."

"Come on, Harry, you don't mean that," Ron pleaded, his heart breaking for his best friends.

"I do. She should have just stayed in Azkaban. Why'd she even get let out, anyhow?" Harry asked. Ron knew this question was not supposed to be answered, but this did not keep him from wincing.

"Harry-"

"What was that?" he asked, noticing the questionable look on the red head's face.

"What?"

"That look. What do you know?" Harry asked, a new sort of anger swelling up in him. He hated when he was out of the loop.

"I'm sorry, mate, we would have told you earlier but you know-"

"Just get it over with."

"Bridget said that the only reason she was let out was because the ministry thinks she's their last hope," Ron mumbled, staring down at his feet. Harry sighed, falling down on his bed. It figured something like that was bound to happen.

"It's over."

"What is?" Ron asked, looking at his friend in concern. He knew of the weights that brought Harry down ever day, and now with nobody to help him carry the burden he could only imagine what the green eyed boy could be going through.

"Everything. Bridget. Voldemort. The world as we know it. I give up. I just can't get it right."

"You don't mean that," Ron whispered, noticing Neville Longbottom rustling in his bed.

"You can't."

"I do. I don't even care anymore. Voldemort can kill whoever the hell he wants and Bridget can screw Seth for all I care. I'm over it."

But Ron knew he was lying, for Harry Potter did not leave his bed the next day.

Or the next day.

Or the day after that.

--

Ron sat down louder than usual the next morning, giving Hermione a wary look.

"He has to come down sometime, does he know that?" she sighed, putting down her paper.

"I don't think so."

"And did Bridget just disappear off the face of the planet as well?" she asked, the tone on her voice reaching a dangerous high.

"She might as well be," Ron murmured. "Do you we think we should go find her? Try to talk to her?"

"No," Hermione responded curtly. Ron raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I've love to check if she's okay. But we both know what we'd say to her if we got the chance."

"No, what?" Ron demanded, curious as to what obvious explanation there was.

"We'd comfort her, tell her it'll be okay, and then convince her to go right up to Harry's room and marry him."

"I would not!" Ron exclaimed, offended. Hermione stared blankly.

"Yes. We all want the best for them. We all know what that is though. Harry proposed to her, and that's not something he can take back. We Bridget didn't respond that ruined everything. That, however _is_ something she can take back. So only she can fix this."

"That doesn't make any sense. We have to find her-"

"Ron! Are you listening?" Hermione yelled, running a hand through her hair. "Even if they both agreed to forget about the proposal it would still change everything. She is the only one who can fix this, and she has to be the one to do so."

"Why can't we help her?" Ron wined, refusing to comply with the way things were turning out.

"Because marriage is a big deal, Ron!" Hermione squeaked. "If she is going to agree to be with Harry _forever_ it has to be all her own. If there is any doubt or outer influence, I won't let her-"

"Won't let her do what? Show up for once," a new voice floated into the conversation that wasn't quite hushed enough.

"Aiden," Ron stated, struggling to keep the groan out of his voice.

"Cut the crap, Weasley. Where's Bridget?" Aiden asked.

"We don't know," Hermione sighed, hesitant about the direction this conversation was taking.

"What did Potter do to her now?" Aiden growled. Ron immediately jumped up on his feet.

"More like what she did to him!"

"Standing up for the Boy Who Lived, now, are we? Think it'll get you some street cred?" Aiden mocked, and ever though Ron's lanky body towered over his the devoted best friend was still apprehensive.

"Just leave; this is none of your business."

"She's my sister. My _sister."_

"Really? What's her favorite color?" Ron demanded, his eyes boring into those of Aiden Riddle.

"That's easy. Blue."

"Wrong," Ron laughed, crossing his arms and leaning against the table. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I thought it was red."

"Sorry, 'Mione. You're wrong too. She hates red; it reminds her of blood," Ron shrugged, returning his attention to Aiden.

"So what's her favorite color then?" he demanded, doubtful.

"Well, you're on the right track. It _was _blue until just recently, when it spontaneously turned to emerald green," Ron informed the boy, a smug look across his face. Hermione smiled, slowly understanding the meaning behind the color.

"What the hell? Why?" Aiden asked, cheeks red in anger.

"Harry's eyes," Hermione whispered. Aiden looked at her in a moment of defeat and anger before turning on his heel and walking away. Ron laughed, but it wasn't happy.

"If he weren't Bee's brother I'd kill him."

"Yeah, there is just something weird about him.."

--

Bridget stifled her coughs as she snuck silently into her room, closing the door and locking it. She bit her lip before slowly taking off her uniform and throwing it lazily on the floor. Her eyes were wet with worry, but not a single tear had fallen. She sat down carefully on her bed, feeling a cold that only emptiness could bring.

"What have I done?" she whimpered, feeling a nightmare approaching. She could not sleep, though she was so tired, and for the first time in years running had not given her anything. Bridget swallowed, coughing weakly as she lay down and closed her eyes.

"What have I done?" she croaked once more, rolling over to bury her head in the pillows. She whispered those words for what felt like hours before finally sitting up, hunger and longing settling in her stomach. With a final inhalation she grabbed a pen and some parchment, and on whim began writing. Before long a letter was lying there, a sad, strange letter that would never be sent.

_Lillian-_

_I miss you so much, you know that right? I want to cry every time I think of you, but I can't. I know you had to go, and I think I know why. It's useless, though. Everything's useless. Everything's meaningless and empty and lonely and lost. Without you I'm nothing. I can't make a simple decision or anything. I miss you. I need you!_

_Harry and I were friends for a while after you left. It was really fun, but you know we never really got along. It was like.. forced or something. Kinda lame, really. It felt fruitless and useless and I hated him. But you know I loved him. You _know_ I did. Because he was your brother, is your brother, and that was enough._

_For a while._

_Daddy dearest set me up, of course. Befriending enemies is apparently out of the question. But whatever. We don't speak anymore. Sometimes I forget he exists, and then the horrid presence of the Dork Lord pours down on me. I meant to write Dark Lord. But Dork Lord just sounds so much better, don't you think?_

_For the record, Azkaban is just as bad as it sounds. Hell would be better. Be glad you're dead and will never EVER have to go through that. It is possibly the only good that could have come out of this._

_Not that you'd ever landed yourself there anyway. You were always the good kid. You always kept me in check. Maybe that's why I'm so screwed up now. Because there's nobody around to keep me in check anymore._

_I know, I know, you'll tell me I have PLENTY of people. Like, if you were here you'd name off enough people to create a basketball team._

_I'm off track now, Lils. Like, this was so not the point of me writing. But just talking to you like this, just writing, just pretending has got me in a considerably better mood. However, sweet friend, there is nothing that can really help me now._

_Here's the thing: Harry and I are in love. As in, he was my boyfriend and I was his girlfriend and we were very happy together. For a while._

_Stop whatever you're thinking. It was going fine and we only fought ever so often. OMG BE QUIET. It was going to work. Because I love him, and I don't know what I'd do if it didn't._

_But it's not._

_Lillian, he proposed. It's the second time somebody's done that to me this other kid named Seth did it too. But...whatever It was easy with Seth. "No, sweetie dear, I am madly in love with Harry Potter. We can't wed."_

_Not so much like that with Harry. "Yes, dear, I love you to death but.."_

_I could have said a million things when I did it. Yes, should have been one of them. Yes should have been all of them._

_But I said nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, I didn't even stick around to hear his response, because I'm sure it would have been better than mine._

_NOTHING._

_I ran away, Lillian. I ran away from everything and now.._

_I'm so scared. I love him and I'm so scared. Help me, please. I have to do something. I know what I have to do. I have to .._

_I have to fix this. I know.._

_I love him. My God, I love him._

_-Bridget Hope Riddle Potter? Maybe. No. I dunno. It does sound quite good._


	84. Hanging By a Moment

**Disclaimer: Potterverse belongs to Rowling**

* * *

Bridget Riddle frowned, standing in front of her mirror. Her hair was a greasy mess, and she hadn't changed her clothes in two days. Also, she smelled.

"Right. Shower," she mumbled, pulling off her shirt. She caught a glimpse of her face, and noticed how defined the bags under her eyes had become. She hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, and even when she did the nightmares attacked her hard on. Before it was easier; she had friends and a boyfriend to help her get through the cold hours. Now, when she felt truly alone, everything worsened.

"You're not alone," she told herself, standing up tall and half naked before the mirror. No matter what happened today-for she _would_ move forward with her life by its end-she would still have her brother, and at least Ron would still be her friend. Maybe even Hermione too. If she was lucky she and Harry would move towards speaking terms as well. This wasn't a big deal. She just rejected his proposal. Nothing she couldn't fix.

"Don't set your hopes too high," she ordered herself, and then, frustrated and confused, she turned around and finished undressing before going to take a shower.

--

The night was cold, and Bridget berated herself for waiting so long. She just wasn't sure if he'd be around during the day, and didn't want to wander to much and risk running into anybody. She clutched her jacket, also wishing she had worn something more than a tank top under it. She swallowed, approaching the Gryffindor tower.

"Smikelpuffs," she whispered, but the fat lady shook her head. Of course. The password had changed since her last visit.

"Well are you going to just stand there? Say the password or I'm going to sleep," the fat lady grumbled, glaring. Oh, she did not just get glared at by a _painting!_

"Look, I need to get inside. _Now!"_

"Sorry, no can do without a password."

"Please, it's not like I'm going to do anything bad in there. I just need to see Harry!" Bridget exclaimed, crossing her arms and pouting.

"Maybe you should have let him know that before the exact moment you needed to get in," the lady retorted, closing her eyes for rest.

"You know, I'd explain this to you, but it wouldn't help in the least so I'm not going to even bother," Bridget sighed, turning around. She began walking away slowly, defeated, when suddenly she had an idea. Quickly, so the fat lady didn't have time to respond, she ran up to the portrait and kicked it, right smack in the middle.

"Ow!" the fat lady wailed, jerking awake. "What was that for?"

"Not letting me in, of course."

"Look, I have to follow the rules, sweetie. You could be a death eater or somebody from another house."

"My name is Bridget Riddle and I am not a death eater, despite who my father is. And I'm not even _in_ a house," Bridget explained.

"And you still don't know the password. Sorry, sweetie."

"Can you at least tell me who assigned the password?"

"The female Gryffindor prefect, of course," the fat lady answered, and Bridget sighed. The world wasn't against her after all.

"Incorrect," Bridget stated, proud to know the bushy haired girl so well.

"Well why didn't you just say so," the fat lady sighed, opening up. Bridget grinned, hurrying into the common room.

The room was dark; everybody was officially asleep. As Bridget swept past the furniture and messy old papers she glanced outside, where the wind was howling especially loud today. Maybe not _all_ the tower would be asleep.

The blonde haired girl placed her first foot on the step leading up the boy's dorm and froze, realizing something that would certainly hinder her activities tonight. While Bridget Riddle knew the gist of what she wanted to say, and what she wanted to result out of the conversation she hadn't exactly gotten to figuring out the words that would come out of her mouth. She wasn't quite sure how to say what she felt, or convince Harry to oblige with her crazy ideas. He rarely did when they were together, after all. What made her think he'd listen now?

There wasn't much time left to think, Bridget decided. She just wanted thing to be okay again, and craved for the touch of her ex? boyfriend. She concluded that if she ever wanted Harry Potter back she had to stop thinking and start acting. And that was THAT.

Bridget was running up the stairs now, frantically searching for the right door. When she found it she stopped, taking a moment to catch her breath. This was the moment-she knew it-that would change her life forever. So, slowly, she opened the door, surprised it didn't creak. Hogwarts was old, after all.

She saw his bed immediately, and smiled; he looked so cute sleeping. Of course, it was obvious he had been restless throughout the nights too, and Bridget wondered if it was egotistical to think it was because of her. Closing the door, she crept over to his bedside, briefly checking to make sure nobody was awake. If they were they chose to pretend to sleep, however, for there was not a noise in the darkness of night.

Remembering that she wasn't allowed to think anymore she did what felt natural, and that happened to be sliding in next to Harry. He smelled nice; apparently he'd fared better off in the hygiene department. Smiling, Bridget snuggled herself into Harry's defined chest, and it felt so perfect-so _right-_hat she almost died.

At that moment Harry groaned, and Bridget's breath caught in her throat. His eyes were perfectly closed, though, and he was smiling happily. She resisted the urge to laugh; he looked like a little kid getting read to suck his thumb. She almost didn't want him to wake up, but rather they sleep there like that forever. She knew that she'd do better off when she had en excuse to keep his yelling down, though, so she softly brought her lips to his, and they just faintly touched.

"Wake up, Harry," she whispered, tickling his ear with her breath. He mumbled something incoherent and slowly opened his eyes, squinting.

Wha..?" he started, but then something near reality kicked in and he sat up, glaring down at her. She frowned, slowly lifting herself up as well.

"I'm sor-"

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, glowering.

"I needed to talk to you," Bridget whimpered, and suddenly she was second guessing her once logical plans.

"Yeah, well, I don't need to talk to you. Get out," he ordered, and his voice raised another notch.

"Shh, they'll hear you," Bridget hissed, hearing Ron snore a little extra loudly.

"Do you think I care? It's not anything they don't already know," Harry said, rolling his eyes. Bridget scowled.

"Well I _do_ care," she whispered, sitting back on her heals and crossing her arms. Well, she was certainly doing a lot of fighting tonight.

"Then get out."

"Not without you," Bridget replied, being just as stubborn as him.

"I don't want to be with you," Harry told her, making each and every word clear and defined, as if she wouldn't understand. She didn't, of course, and chose to ignore that statement, despite the pang of hurt it left in her heart.

"Look, I had to have fought with the Fat Lady for ten minutes to get up hear, and I'm not leaving until I get what I want," Bridget stated firmly.

"Oh yeah? And what is it that you want so bad?" Harry inquired, an eyebrow raised.

"You," Bridget uttered, and Harry didn't respond so she continued speaking. "Look, I'm sorry about the other night. I shouldn't have run away; I know that now. The thing is I got scared. I'm not brave like you are-Did you catch that sucking up-and I did the only thing I could think of. I ran," she paused, glancing up at him. He was staring at her, still looking angry, but at least he wasn't arguing. "I'm sorry. I was wrong."

"So?"

"So what?" Bridget questioned, frowning.

"So what now? What was the point of this expedition?" Harry asked, leaning against a post of his bed.

"I was just wondering," Bridget didn't finish her sentence, but instead stared down at her hands.

"Wondering what?" Harry asked, crossing his arms. His tone had changed, Bridget noticed, into something different then the angry one before it, but none-the-less something equally unpleasant.

"Wondering if the offer still stood," Bridget sighed, looking up at him. He was smiling now, but not happy. It was like he was challenging her, mocking her, as if he was so much better.

"I don't know Bridget, what do you think?" he mocked, and suddenly Bridget knew where she'd seen the look on his face, the attitude he was showing her. It was something her father had used with her many times before, because it made her squirm uncomfortably before finally obliging to whatever he wanted and losing the battle.

"I don't know," she whimpered, recoiling from the green-eyed boy before her. How ironic that he who was supposed to defeat Lord Voldemort was acting strangely like him.

Harry sighed, sliding off his bed. Something in him had broken-maybe it was the anger and hurt-when he saw how Bridget had shied away from him like that. He didn't want to be that that kind of person to her, and he didn't know what was causing him to act like he was. Usually they just yelled a lot and fought, but he'd never actually been cruel to her, at least not while he knew she wasn't a traitor.

"Why, Bridget? Why does it matter anymore? Why does any of it matter?" he cried.

"Because I love you, or have you forgotten? And because I want to marry you, Harry. Dammit I want to marry you!" Bridget yelled, though she wasn't actually yelling in fear of waking up the whole house. Harry's mouth dropped, and he lost his ability to speak.

"Bridget-" Harry started, but he couldn't finish his sentence. Words were failing him. So instead he walked up to her, took her in his arms and kissed her. Bridget threw her arms around Harry, kissing him back in desperation. She'd missed him over the days, and was a bit shocked at how much she needed him.

Harry hovered himself over her, laying her down on the bed. He kissed her eagerly, overjoyed at the recent turn of events. His hands were running through her hair, and her tongue was tracing the corners of his mouth. Harry shivered, but not from the cold.

"I love you," Bridget whispered, mid-kiss.

"I love you too," Harry replied, but their words did not last long for their lips were busy doing other things.

--

When Bridget opened her eyes she was a little surprised to find that she was not in her own room anymore. Instead she was in the boy's dormitory, Harry's arm lazily wrapped around her. She smiled, snuggling closer to his warm body.

"Mrs. Potter," she murmured, kissing his chest.

"Hmm?" Harry responded, keeping his eyes closed.

"Nothing," Bridget sighed, trailing her lips all over his body. Harry smiled, bringing her chin up with his finger and pressing his own lips to hers.

"You're driving me crazy," he muttered, kissing her nose. She giggled, scowling playfully.

"Good."

"Gosh, I can't believe I had to spend two whole days away from you," Harry sighed.

"We should just mutually agree never to part. Maybe we can surgically join at the hips," Bridget teased.

"Maybe that not far, but you could always sleep in my room from now on," Harry trailed off, smiling shyly.

"No thank you, mister," Bridget responded. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I know, sure-"

"My room is much better. Not so many boys," Bridget commented, crinkling her nose. Harry grinned.

"I like the way you think."

"Hey, be careful there. No sex before marriage," Bridget warned, wagging her finger.

"Darn. I don't think I want to wait that long," Harry joked, his fingers tickling Bridget's stomach lightly.

"Maybe you don't," Bridget shrugged.

"Huh?"

"We should get married soon. Like.. during spring break or something," Bridget paused, eyes lighting up. "It'll be perfect. Very low key, very soon."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Alright then," Harry laughed, kissing Bridget again. It had only been a few moments when he stopped, jumping up.

"Wait!"

"What is it?" Bridget asked. Harry didn't reply, but instead opened the drawer and started searching for something.

"Ah-ha!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Bridget laughed.

"Here," Harry whispered, taking Bridget's hand and slipping the ring on her finger.

"Oh, Harry," Bridget sighed. "Are you sure? It is your mom's.."

"Never been more sure of anything in my life," he confirmed, kissing her again. Bridget sighed, examining her finger. The ring looked nice on it, and she felt as if she'd burst for joy every time she looked at it.

"Well, Harry," she started, smiling. "You're engaged. How dare you? You're so young!"

"Well, Bridget," he copied. "you're engaged too."


	85. For Blue Skies

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

"Yeah, this is just weird," Seamus said, wrinkling his nose. By now, news had gotten around about the engagement, and it was certainly the talk of the school.

"Definitely. But you know what's more weird?" Dean asked, but didn't give his friend any time to respond. "I bet when they're married Dumbledore gives them a whole bunch of special marriage privileges and stuff."

"Like what?" Seamus questioned, thought half of him didn't really want to know.

"I don't know. They probably get to share a room, and do all sorts of weird married people things."

"You guys realize we're still standing right here, right?" Harry interjected, raising an eyebrow at the two boys. His hands were interlaced with Bridget's as they were all walking across the grounds towards Care of Magical Creatures. Before Dean and Seamus were able to answer Aiden was walking up, and he did not look happy.

"Hello, dear sister of mine, how are you?" he asked, muscles tense and voice angry.

"Good, tha-"

"Are you serious?" he demanded, interrupting their casual conversation.

"What are you going on about?" Bridget asked. Aiden sighed, ripping her hand out from Harry's and staring at the ring on her finger.

"You're actually going to marry him, aren't you? Gosh, Bridget, I can't believe you!" Aiden yelled, glaring at his sister. "You're really screwing yourself over, you know that?"

"What the hell are you talking about? I am not!" Bridget defended, crossing her arms.

"Oh, sure, that's what everybody says, Bridget. Get a clue! You're better than him, you're better than this! Don't ruin yourself!"

"I don't think it's me who's ruining things right now," Bridget hissed.

"He's no good for you!" Aiden shouted, throwing his arms up. Bridget glared, turning to her fiancé.

"Harry, would you mind giving us some time alone. I'd like to speak with my _brother,"_ Bridget told him.

"Right," Harry answered, turning around to catch up with his friends.

"What the hell is wrong with you coming up to me like that, especially while he's around and being so insulting?"

"I'm not happy with this, Bridget, and I think you're making the wrong decision," Aiden told her, frowning.

"I thought you liked Harry. You didn't mind when we were dating!"

"Because I thought you'd break up, Bridget! I tolerated him only because I knew you liked him, but really, I didn't think it would go this far! If I did I would have stopped it earlier," Aiden said, shrugging. Bridget's eyes opened; she was lived, and then her hand raised, and without thinking she'd slapped him. The sound rang out through her ears, but there was no time for guilt now.

"You couldn't have stopped anything," she hissed before turning on her heal and going to class.

"Come on, Bridget, you can't expect it to work out? What's the longest you guys have gone without fighting, a week? Trust me on this. I'm only looking out for your best interest! I'm family, remember?" Aiden called.

"Yeah, so is Voldemort, but I don't think he's looking out for anybody's best interest."

--

"Bridget! There ya are! We were just talking' about you and Harry here! Congratulations!" Hagrid exclaimed, patting the Bridget on the back. She smiled, laughing as she struggled to regain her balance. Harry chuckled, placing an arm around her.

"Are you okay?" he whispered. She nodded, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry about him. He's just being really weird lately, I don't know."

"It's okay. It's not your fault."

'"Okay, class!, today I would like to introduce you to the steveri!" Hagrid announced, distracting everybody from their conversations.

"Exiting!" Bridget teased, glancing around the grounds at her classmates. She saw Aiden chatting away with the Slytherins and Seth, who caught her eyes for only a moment.

"Now, steveri are a very interesting animal, for they're very much like cats alone, but when united or reunited with their mate they exhibit powers, each one as eccentric and different as the next," Hagrid continued.

"Hey, where are Ron and Hermione?" Bridget whispered, and Harry laughed quietly, a smug look on his face.

"You don't want to know."

"Bow-chicka-wow-wow!"

"Now, steveri are also special in the way that they each have only one mate, and once they find it that's it. Today you're each going to receive one steveri and it will be your job to mingle with your friends to find out of there are any matches."

"How will we know if they're mates?" a Slytherin boy asked.

"Oh, you'll know. Now everybody come and get there steveri!"

The class began chatting as they all shuffled over to get their animal. A few minutes later Bridget looked up and saw Ron and Hermione running down the hill, Hermione's blouse half undone and lipstick on Ron's mouth area. Bridget choked on her own spit.

"Harry!" she giggled, pointing to their friends.

"Wow, guys, subtle enough?" Harry asked as Ron and Hermione joined the two of them. They looked at each other and then shrugged.

"What?"

"Never mind," Harry sighed, and then went on to explain what they were doing. As much as the sight of Ron and Hermione disheveled and late to class was amusing him, it was also something he'd rather not think about.

--

"Aw, Harry, I don't think yours likes mine very much," Bridget complained, staring down at the two animals who were hissing at each other, trying to ignore the other one.

"Maybe we can force them," Harry suggested.

"What? No! You're just going to have to leave us alone from now on. Lucy and I just can't bear to be around you two anymore," Bridget sighed, bending down to pet the steveri.

"You named it?"

"Um, yeah. It's really quite cute, you know, and it deserves a name," Bridget told Harry, smiling. Harry glanced down at the animal, which was a light pink, signifying it was a girl, and looked like a big ball of cotton candy with a nose, in reality. His steveri was blue, meaning it was a boy, and he was pretty sure Professor Trelawney had a hat made out of its fur.

"Whatever you say," he muttered.

"Well, maybe I'll talk to you after class, assuming that horrid animal is far from our sight, but for now I'm going to see if Ron and his steveri want to meet Lucy," Bridget decided, skipping off towards the red headed boy.

"Hey Bridget," Ron said, looking very uncomfortably down at his animal.

"Hi Ron. This is Lucy."

"Lucy?"

"Yes," Bridget answered, and then sat down on the grass by Lucy. "Go on, little girl, there's a pretty handsome fella over there who want to meet you. Maybe you'll like him two," Bridget cooed, nudging Lucy towards Ron's steveri. Lucy shuffled over towards him, as Ron sat down across from Bridget.

"So are you exited?" he asked.

"Very," Bridget replied, grinning like a schoolgirl. "I can't believe this has happened to me!" she exclaimed, watching Lucy sniff around Ron's steveri, who was feeling very shy.

"Looks like they aren't meant to be," Ron sighed as Lucy got bored with being ignored and returned back to Bridget.

"Aw, I was hoping for babies!"

"Too bad. I'm off to venture into the Slytherins. Mine's been staring at Pansy Parkinson for a while now," Ron said, getting up and walking over there. Bridget snorted, amused.

"Alright, Lucy, where do you want to go?" Bridget asked. Lucy squeaked, waddling over towards the crowd. She seemed to be making more noise as she continued, before finally stopping a foot from Seth.

"Hey," he muttered, looking up from his steveri, who was chewing on some grass.

"Hey. Look who wants to meet your steveri! It's Lucy! You should feel very lucky," Bridget giggled, and then watched as Lucy boldly walked up to Seth's steveri, nudged it, and then froze. Seth's steveri looking up, some grass falling out of its mouth, and opened its little eyes wider than should be possible. Then they nuzzled together, glowing a strong purple and making little squawking noises.

"Oh my gosh, look, look!" Bridget squealed, pointing to the two animals. "Now we can have babies!"

"Looks like we've found a match," Seth laughed, gazing down at the two animals who had sat down next to each other. For a moment everything was still before the grass began to grow around them, cute little flowers spurting up everything.

"Wow, what a nice power. It helps with plants," Bridget noticed, smiling down at the two animals.

"So you named yours too?" Seth asked. Bridget nodded, grinning.

"Of course."

"Mine's name is Mikey, by the way."

"Lucy."

"Oh, look everybody. Riddle and McMillan have matched!" Hagrid boomed, noticing the large bundle of grass that now enclosed the two.

"Are we the first ones?" Seth questioned.

"Yup. You two can just sit and talk near your steveri until class is over."

'"Nice," Bridget commented, sitting down next to the animals and their plant. Seth followed her lead, sitting down and picking at the grass, which of course grew back in a matter of seconds. There was an awkward silence for a few moments before Seth finally spoke.

"So is it true?"

"What?"

"About you and him, I mean," Seth explained. Bridget smiled; she was beginning to do that a lot when the topic was brought up.

"Yeah."

"Congratulations then," he sighed, remembering how not so long ago it was him proposing. The only thing is she didn't say yes.

"Thanks," was her only response, and nothing else about what they use to have or how she betray him.

"Anyway, I'm going to go see how Seamus is doing, so if you could, uh, watch the steveri?"

"Sure," Bridget agreed, turning so she was facing the animals. She tore up some grass and stared at them, happy to be together at last.

"What lucky ones you are."

--

"You know, Bee, class ended five minutes ago. You're allowed to leave," Ron taunted, poking his friend in the side. Hermione and Harry followed him, sitting down on the grass around the two last steveri.

"I just don't want to leave them!" she complained, petting Lucy.

"You could always keep them," Ron suggested.

"Ron! Don't say that. She can't keep them," Hermione scolded.

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"Because you know she will and I don't think any of us want to deal with them when she gets bored."

"Excuse me, Hermione, but Hagrid did say we could keep them or let them free. It was up to us!" Bridget defended.

"Good grief," Hermione sighed.

"I wouldn't keep them anyway, because I don't think Lucy would like it very much being so near Harry all the time," Bridget told her friends, shrugging.

"Bridget it was my steveri she didn't like, not me!" Harry exclaimed.

"Look, Harry, just because somebody doesn't like you for once is no reason to throw a fit"

"I'm going to kill you one of these days, just so you know," Harry muttered, pushing her.

"Gee, thanks," Bridget stated blandly. "Who'd you end up with, anyway?"

"Hermione," Harry said proudly.

"I see."

"He's lucky ending up with one if his friends. I was stuck with Pansy for the whole period," Ron complained.

"Oh, you," Bridget teased. "You know you loved it."

"Probably as much as you enjoyed Seth?" Ron ribbed.

"Oh yes, that was quite an epic event. Especially sense he left after five minutes."

"You probably made him feel insecure," Hermione laughed.

"Well I don't care."

"That was rude," Harry commented.

"Like you care either."

"This is true."

"Come on, guys, let's go. There are only blue skies ahead of us now and I see no reason to sit here and discuss silly things like class!" Ron declared. Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Whatever you say, sweetie."


	86. Everywhere In Between

**Disclaimer:** Potteverse belongs to Rowling

**A/N:** So this chapter is a bit of a crack!fic. A reader once suggested a write a little mini series on the strange little animals from chapter 85. And chapter 86 is what happened. Albeit, it is no mini series and it is a bit weird, you'll just have to deal and read it. ;)

* * *

Every year after the snow melted away and all her friends came out of hibernation, Cordance lived in fear for weeks. The reason being that on one special day when the trees dripped rain upon her head a large human would stomp into the forest, collecting a group of her friends and family to take away from their home. Cordance always lost somebody on this day, and she was afraid that this year it was she who'd be chosen.

Unfortunately, on that day her fears came true as she was picked up and thrown into a little box with everybody else that had been captured as well. She squealed and squawked, not knowing what or why this was happening to her. Would she ever return? Would she survive to see the bright sun grin down on her tomorrow? The possibilities

were endless.

--

The news reached Voldemort the day after it was announced at school, and all the death eaters felt it. He was furious. The owl had come to him early morning, Saturday, in a messy scrawl that could only come from a child.

"What happened to breaking them apart?" he hissed to Snape, pacing the room in untamable rage.

"I didn't think it would come to this, master," the man whispered, trying to keep his composure. The Dark Lord was angered easily, but it was a rare occasion that his master was filled with this much rage.

"Crucio!" he yelled, towered over the greasy man, who had crumbled to the ground. "Somebody should have realized this would happen and done something."

"Sir, master," Snape whimpered between howls of pain. Voldemort stopped the curse, looking down upon his faithful, but useless follower.

"I don't think you understand, Severus, for no women has ever thought of blessing you with a child, but it's not a happy moment when you hear the news of a daughter engaged to a Potter," Voldemort paused a moment, considering, before beginning to laugh. "Though I suppose you would know what it feels like, regarding what you lost to James Potter."

Severus Snape cried out in pain again, but this time it was because of no curse.

--

It was hot and crowded in the box where Cordance had been living for what felt like years. All she could see around her was brown, and all she could hear were the whimpers of her fellow captives, and why did this have to happen?

With that thought she saw figures, more humans, coming to retrieve them all from the box. She recoiled in a corner, not knowing if this would lead to good or bad. There was no escaping, however, when a girl smiled and picked her up, grinning with glee.

"I'll name you Lucy!" she exclaimed, and Cordance winced; Lucy was such an ugly name! Why couldn't she keep her old name? Cordance squeaked, squirming in the arms of the human as a string was attached to her neck and she was set on the ground. Cordance immediately began to run away, but it was no use: the string would just choke her.

"Come, come, let's go see if Harry has a friend for you!" she cooed, leading Cordance-or rather, Lucy-in the direction of a male steveri. Cordance recognized the male, and filled with a hateful fear, began screaming and wailing. She would fight to the death before going anywhere near that horrid creature. Luckily, the male agreed and turned his back, ignoring her. Cordance stuck her nose up, copying him and hissing softly at the human for forcing her over here.

Before long she was being dragged somewhere else, though, towards another male. The human sat down on the ground next to her, pushing her towards the other steveri.

" Go on, little girl, there's a pretty handsome fella over there who want to meet you. Maybe you'll like him two**," **she told her, though Cordance doubted she would ever like anybody this human introduced her too. This didn't stop her interest, however, and Cordance, not totally repulsed at the sight of the male, began sniffing around the other steveri. He didn't seem interested, though, and began hiding behind the other human. Offended, Cordance returned to her human, eyes scanning the area.

" Alright, Lucy, where do you want to go?" the human asked, and Cordance didn't even care she was being called by an ugly name.

She had seen him.

--

Early in the morning, the sun still sleeping beneath the hills, Harry awake to his scar burning, sweat running down his face. He shot straight up in bed, chest heaving as he muffled screams of pain.

"Harry?" echoed a voice from beside him, and suddenly Bridget was sitting up next to him, a concerned look on her face. Harry smiled, attempting to pretend nothing was wrong.

"I didn't realize we fell asleep together," he commented, noticing the clothes they were both still wearing.

"It's not a big deal," Bridget mumbled.

"Well, I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to bed, alright?" Harry told her, kissing her and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong!" Bridget exclaimed, making herself awake and comfortable.

"I just realized I have a essay due first thing, and McGonagall will kill me if I don't turn it in," Harry lied, getting up. Bridget looked at him, knowing he wasn't telling the truth, but not wanting to get in a fight with him this early in the morning.

"Fine," she whispered, falling back into the bed.

"I'll see you later in class; I love you," Harry told her before leaving to go downstairs. Bridget scowled, closing her eyes to pretend he hadn't lied for a few more hours.

--

Harry sat down in the common room, pushing back the guilt he felt for not telling Bridget the truth. He should be able to tell her things like this, especially since they were to be married now, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew Voldemort was angry, and while his dreams only showed the actions he took to release the rage, it didn't take much to know what was going on. Somebody had obviously told him they were to be married.

This meant a lot of things for Harry. It was obvious that the marriage would have to be small and quick, or else Voldemort would hear of it and try to ruin it. It's also have to be soon, and only those he could trust would be allowed to know when it was. Mentally, Harry began to plan the best he good, hating Voldemort for forcing them into secrecy. He'd wanted the day to be perfect, elegant, and decorative for Bridget. He'd wanted all her friends there, the whole school, maybe. It was clear now that none of that would happen, though. Harry couldn't ruin the day with worrying, though. He'd simply not tell Bridget that Voldemort knew, and he'd worry about it for her. They'd talk about it after; it'd be better this way.

--

Cordance ran as fast as she could towards the beautiful thing she had just seen. He was just sitting there, minding his own business, eating some grass. There was not a moment to waste, though, for Cordance needed to meet him, to be with him, to love him. Everything else that was going on seemed to disappear as Cordance found herself reaching the perfect match for her, nuzzling against him. She looked at him happily, watching as his eyes opened and all other tasks such as eating were forgotten. He seemed to smile as they nuzzled together, and Cordance felt something strange happening to her. Love erupted for her body as she lay with her lover, falling asleep, all cuddled up with him.

They'd fallen asleep together, when suddenly Cordance was jerked awake by Juness her mate being ripped away from her. Her eyes opened wide as she began squeaking and squawking, feeling cold and alone as Juness was picked up by a human. Cordance listened intently to the voices of the human, who fumed in anger.

"If I can't be with Bridget, why should you get to be with her steveri?" the human grumbled, looking angrily at Juness. Cordance whimpered, running up and trying to shove the human. He looked down at her, glaring.

"It's not so fun, is it, being away from somebody you love like this?" he jeered, shaking Cordance off. Juness whined, fighting to break free of the clutches of the human.

"Ha!" the human cried, and he kicked Cordance across the grounds, leaving her helpless a few feet away. Juness squealed and was dropped from the humans arms as he sprinted across the grass towards Cordance. When he arrived by her side it was all he could do not to collapse, but in reality nothing he could do would be any help.

Cordance was dead.

--

Seth hadn't been able to sleep that night, for his thoughts were far too preoccupied with thoughts of Bridget, and less important, Harry sleeping together across the room. Through logic, Seth knew it was only an accident; on any normal occasion they slept in separate dormitories. Today, though, they were engaged, and it felt as if they were doing it all just to spite Seth.

Because he was only half asleep Seth heard Harry leave, and after wrestling with his desires for a while it was plain he wasn't coming back. Bridget was asleep and alone just across the room.

Quietly, as to not wake anybody, Seth walked over to the bed where she lay and slide in with her, wrapping an arm around her warm body. She didn't wake, but shifted her body to fit almost perfectly into his arms. A sigh escaped her mouth, but it was one of happiness, and Seth's heart swelled as he fell asleep for the first time that night.

A few hours later Seth awoke; by now he and Bridget were the only ones in the room. The rest of his roommates must not have noticed the change in company, something Seth was immensely pleased for. He sighed, kissing Bridget's cheek, pretending just for a moment that she was his.

"I would never leave you, my beautiful girl. I would never lie, and I'd stay in this bed forever with you. You would know I love you, and you'd never have to wonder," Seth whispered in her hear. She smiled, and chuckled a little.

"Hmm, I love you," she mumbled, still half asleep. Seth smiled, running his hand up her side.

"I love you more," he sighed, careful not to wake her anymore than she was. She deserved to sleep, and he deserved to be loved by her.

"Oh?" she questioned, she challenged and her eyes flickered open and shut quick enough not to notice it was the wrong boy.

"uh-huh," Seth said, nodding.

"Then why'd you lie to me?" Bridget demanded, her eyes opening to glare at him. The glare was immediately gone, though, as soon as she noticed who was next to her.

Seth wasn't quick enough to prevent her scream.

"Bee, I can explain-"

"What the _hell?_

--

"Harry, mate, what are you doing up so early?" Ron asked, sitting next to his friend. "I thought only Hermione woke up this early!"

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, appearing at the bottom of the girl's staircase. "And what would you be doing up this early, Ronald?"

"Well, Harry was up," Ron mumbled, scratching his head. Hermione rolled her eyes, sitting down next to her boyfriend.

"You're ridiculous," she groaned, nudging Ron lightly.

"Guys," Harry interjected, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry, mate," Ron apologized. "What's up?"

"I woke up with my scar hurting this morning," Harry told his friends, touching the lightning bolt on his forehead.

"What?" Hermione asked, a concerned look forming on her features.

"He was angry, really angry. I think he found out."

"Found out about what?" Ron asked, confused.

"The engagement, Ron, keep up," Hermione scolded.

"Oh."

"Well, Harry, he was bound to find out sometime. It's not like it was a secret, right?" Hermione asked, a pointed look on her face.

"I know, but not even the whole school knew yet, you know?"

"Doubtful, Harry. You are famous. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole school knew second after it happened," Ron teased, grinning. He only receive glares.

"I just have this feeling that somebody we know told him, as if he's got connections into our personal life," Harry explained.

"Harry, that's ridiculous. Nobody in their right mind would want to tell Voldemort anything like this, even if it was a death eater. I mean, how would you like to be around when Voldemort finds out about his kid marrying his arch nemesis?" Ron questioned, shuddering at the thought of it.

"Actually, I think Harry has a point," Hermione interpolated.

"What?" Ron whined.

"He will betray them, the one they thought was their friend," Hermione quoted. The room was silent, nobody wanting to respond to the truth laid out before them. They all knew how it ended, after all. Besides, the rest of the school was waking up, the common room slowly becoming more populated and none of them wanted to take any chances. Finally, Harry spoke.

"But who?"

He was interrupted by a scream.

--

"Get off of me! What makes you think you have any right to come within a ten foot radius of me?" Bridget shrieked, appalled by the impudence of Seth McMillan.

"Bridget, I just wanted to-"

"Don't!" Bridget ordered, removing the arm that was reaching out to her. "Touch me."

"I'm sorry," Seth whimpered, almost like a lost puppy. Bridget felt no pity.

"I would be too if I were you, jackass."

"Bridget?" a new voice asked, and Bridget turned around to see Harry with a questioning look on his face. Seth was still in his bed, Bridget towering over him.

"You better get out of Harry's bed; I bet he doesn't like it when it smells," Bridget taunted, turning on her heal as she walked out of the room, making sure to shove Harry on her way.

"What did you do?" Harry yelled, approaching Seth with murder in his eyes. Seth stood up tall, prepared to go down, but not without a fight.

"You weren't here to be with her and somebody had to," Seth defended himself, because it wasn't like he had a legit argument anyway. Even he was a bit surprised with himself. Who goes around crawling into random people's beds?

"If she wanted you to be with her she'd ask, but-"

"How do you know she didn't?" Seth shouted, his only last justification. It didn't help much, though, when Harry punched him in the face, and Seth met the blackness.

--

Harry returned to the common room to see Bridget sitting against the wall, talking with Ron and Hermione.

"You didn't ask him to do that, did you?" Harry asked, standing above her.

"What? No," Bridget stated, glancing up at him with disbelief before returning her gaze to the ground. Ron gave his friend a questioning look, and then took Hermione's hand.

"We'll save you a seat at breakfast, mate."

"What the hell was that?" Harry inquired, keeping his voice at a low volume, but his tone hard.

"I just woke up and he was there, okay?" Bridget explained, glowering at the ground.

"He just crawled into bed with you?" Harry queried.

"Yeah, I guess. I certainly didn't crawl into bed with him. It's not like I did anything wrong, anyway. You're the one that lied," Bridget confronted Harry, giving him a pointed look.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"This morning, when you left. I know you don't have homework. You had a dream, didn't you?" Bridget spoke, her voice soft. Harry didn't answer immediately, proving her point.

"Yeah, I did," Harry admitted, sighing.

"Why didn't you tell me, Harry? Did you think you could just keep it from me while you tried to figure it out with Ron and Hermione?" Bridget challenged.

"No, it's not like that, and you know it," Harry exclaimed.

"Then what's it like? You know, if I'm going to marry you I have to know that you're going to be honest with me."

"I was trying to protect you, okay? I didn't want you to worry."

"I'll always worry, though. We're in a war; I think worrying comes with the package," Bridget joked.

"Great, I'm glad you have it all figured out," Harry laughed. Bridget shook her head, inhaling.

"So what happened?"

Harry frowned; he was hoping to avert the subject, but he supposed keeping the secret was never really a good idea in the first place.

"He's angry, and I think he found out about us."

"So why didn't you tell me?" Bridget questioned, hurt.

"I didn't want it to change things."

"Harry," Bridget griped. "We're better than that," she told him, taking his hand. "My father can do whatever he wants; he can get as angry as possible! That will never change the way I love you, though. We're stronger than him anyhow."

Harry smiled, though he didn't feel any better about the situation. There were still some things he needed to figure out, but at least Bridget was content for the time being.

"As long as Seth doesn't get involved."


	87. Carry You

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

_For hours, running. For days, running. It was like one of those moments where you can't exactly remember what you've been doing, but you just know. The gut instinct. Confused, obviously, but not in pain. The darkness happily dancing around the girl, who could think of nothing but to run. Faster, maybe, towards the destination. This was the point, wasn't it? It was felt to be running towards something instead of away from something. How brave of her, to consider this new path. How stupid of her, though, considering what was waiting for her at the end of this path._

_Carefully, tired, weak and helpless, the girl fell to the ground. She was on hands and knees, coughing up blood and bile like it was daily routine. Like a good girl, no pain was felt, but whether it was because this was a dream or because it wasn't like she could feel pain anyway; the truth was unsure._

_"Cute," teased a voice, one so familiar, but she was too stupid to realize the body it came from._

_"Stand up," she ordered herself, but no words came out of her mouth, and instead it was a voice much more persuasive, but also far more dangerous. It was followed by more voices, each one stabbing her harder than the next. With all the energy she could manage, small and afraid the girl looked up to see her father. There was a twisted grin on his face, almost like a smirk, but less happy. He hugged his daughter, but it was not her; wasn't she his daughter? Then how was she over there..? Her eyes hurt, and her mouth was moving but only mumbles came out, and not even she could understand what was being said. The point of this was unknown, was it not? Struggling, she strained her body to pay attention, notice things, but it was all fading. Down at her hands, she was falling, falling, body crumbling to pieces. As if this hasn't happened before._

Bridget Riddle awoke within moments, careful so that she made no sound. She could not wake up the boy next to her, and mentally hit herself for allowing him to virtually move into her room.

It wasn't as if she was keeping secrets from him. If he asked she'd tell, but it would just be better if he didn't ask. And it's not like it would be hard for her to wake him up, all worried and afraid, and explain her dreams. He'd listen, he'd care, he'd help.

The truth? These dreams hadn't been around for a while, not since before she got engaged, but then again she wasn't sure if this was the kind of dream she'd had. They-for there had been a large number of them in the past three days-were something more real, but far more confusing than the dreams that had built themselves up before she knew what they were. There was certainly something different about the more recent dreams, definitely. There was also something important about them; she was no longer living in fantasy world of nightmares.

This is why, Bridget decided, she could not tell Harry, nor anybody else, of the dreams. They'd, without a doubt, try to stop them, something she could not risk. Because until she figured out what they meant she'd have to keep them hidden and in full force, no matter how tired she felt in the mornings, as if the weakness she exhibited in the dreams seeped itself into her daily life.

Bridget sighed, laying back down. It had taken much care to master the art of not screaming when she woke up, and there was something fairly promising about returning the arms of her fiancé. In truth, she did feel a bit guilty about hiding things from him; hadn't she been angry about him lying just a few days ago? Bridget had never been one to be hindered much by guilt, though. Even though she knew something wrong was happening, it was against her instinct to stop it until complete sense was made.

But wait!

Maybe there was somebody she could talk to.

--

"Friday?"

"Friday."

"It's so soon!"

"I know!"

"But _Friday?"_

"Is there something you're not getting?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes.

"No, I mean, I understand. It's just so very soon, and don't we need planning?" Bridget responded.

"Like what? It's not like we can have something huge now anyway. Who would we invite anyway?"

"Friends. Family."

"Family?" Harry interjected, eyebrow raised.

"Alright, so maybe that wouldn't be the best idea," Bridget agreed, sighing as she lay down on the couch.

"That's what I was thinking too."

"But what about insurance?" Bridget questioned, sitting up again.

"What?" Harry inquired, perplexed.

"Well life insurance. With somebody as dangerous as you or I we're going to need lots and lots of it, whatever it does," Bridget explained. Harry laughed, rolling his emerald eyes.

"I'll get right on it, okay?"

"What about all the positions that need to be filled?"

"You've got Hermione; I've got Ron."

"But who will walk me down the aisle!" Bridget flailed, raising her arms in the air.

"Aiden, maybe?" Harry suggested.

"But-"

"Listen, do you want to marry me or not?" Harry interrupted before she could spit out her next protest. She looked to the side for a moment, pausing to think.

"Well-"

"If you're debating that I'll strangle you," Harry threatened, glaring.

"You could go to jail for that, and while you're there I'm not saving you from rape."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. You're going to lose your virginity to a fat, ugly, hairy man-"

"Not unless I lose it to somebody else first," Harry commented, shrugging. Bridget laughed, shaking her head.

"Who in their right mind would have sex with you?"

"I dunno, my wife, maybe?" Harry hinted.

"Well she's _obviously_ not in her right mind."

"Pfft, I knew that ages ago," Harry teased, and Bridget laughed, a sudden reminder of why she loved this man rushing through her.

"So Friday, what are your plans?"

"You know, I think I'm pretty free Friday."

"Friday it is!"

--

"Friday?"

"Friday."

"But it's so soon!"

"I know, that's that I said!"

"But, Friday?"

"Yes, Friday, okay, is there something you're not getting?"

"Hey, is it just me or is this conversation sounding strangely familiar?"

"It was cuter when you did it," Harry huffed, a scowl formed on his face as he glanced at Bridget, who was simply smiling smugly.

"Harry, we're only looking out for you," Hermione sighed, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Yeah, mate, I don't know if you've ever planned a wedding before, but it takes a whole lot more than a week."

"We're not really planning a wedding, though, are we?" Bridget asked, shrugging.

"She's right, you know," Harry agreed, nodding his head in satisfaction.

"So now you're eloping?" Hermione presumed.

"Why do you care; you're going to be there!" Bridget told her friend, who just shook her head.

"Your life, okay?" she said, shaking her head.

"I'll clear my calendar," Ron consented, patting Harry on the back.

"Thanks, mate."

"No problem. How often does your best friend get married?"

"Well, actually-"

"Shut up, Bridget," Ron interposed.

"It depends on how many best friends you have," she added anyway, looking down sheepishly. Ron looked at her wearily, and then turned back to Harry.

"You do realize you're going to have to life with that for the rest of your life, right?" Ron asked. Harry looked over at Bridget, who was staring at Ron with her mouth open, appalled. Harry laughed, nudging Ron lightly.

"Maybe I _should_ reconsider," he taunted.

"Yeah, that's just great, abuse the blonde!" Bridget cried, throwing her hands up in defeat. Hermione looked at her friend knowingly, mussing up her hair.

"Think about it this way: You'll get to wake up every morning to that wonderful face, remember this day, and appropriately slap him until you feel better."

"That does change things."

--

"Thanks for meeting me."

"What are brothers for?" Aiden asked, shrugging. "My only question is why we had to be outside in the cold and dark."

"There's just some stuff I need to talk to about that involves nobody finding out," Bridget exclaimed, sitting down on the grassy grounds.

"Oh, I see."

"Look, Harry and I have decided to get married and quick as possible. Which means Friday, and I was wondering, since our father is.. obviously unable," Bridget paused, smiling as she looked into her brother's curious eyes. She saw something flicker there, an emotion she could not describe, and shivers were sent down her spine. "Well, will you walk me down the aisle?" she finished, looking hopeful. Aiden didn't answer right away, but instead paused to evaluate the situation.

"Friday, eh?" he confirmed, as if she might have slipped up and said the wrong date.

"I know it's soon, but," Bridget didn't finish, closing her eyes to pretend for a moment that he understood. She didn't know Aiden as well as she'd like to, but he was her brother and for that she could understand that he wasn't the happiest about the circumstances of things.

"You love him?" was the next question, followed by a nod by the young girl. Aiden, in response, nodded as well, that same familiar emotion showing up once again. Bridget furrowed her brow, struggling to calculate what this face meant.

"Then I will, of course, walk you down the aisle, sis," Aiden agreed, hugging Bridget. She smiled, momentarily forgetting the current mystery.

"Thank you."

"Now was that it? Why'd we need to come out here for that?" Aiden asked, confused. Bridget laughed, shaking her head. Then her face became serious, and Aiden knew immediately that he was about to learn some very important information. By reflex he straightened his posture.

"No, of course not. I just figured while we're here we might as well kill two birds with one stone."

"Yes," Aiden concurred, slowly looking over his sister. "So what's up?"

"These dreams, Aiden, they aren't going away," she whispered, looking her brother intently in the eye. Aiden's face showed one of shock as he settled into a more comfortable position.

"Dreams?"

"You have them too, don't you?" Bridget queried. Aiden raised an eyebrow.

"No, I have no particularly conspicuous dreams."

"Oh," Bridget breathed, furrowing her brow in confusion. "But, I thought-"

"Thought what, Bee? What's going on?" Aiden pleaded, concerned.

"I thought that you'd have them too."

"Why? I don't seem to know what you mean," Aiden admitted. Bridget sighed, running a hand through her hair as she bit her lip. She should tell him, of course. She should be honest with her brother, even if he wouldn't understand like she thought he would.

"A while ago I started getting these nightmares, and they made me sick, so sick. Sick enough for Dumbledore to get involved," Bridget elucidated.

"Oh? And what did the professor say?"

"It had something to do with us being twins, and they'd started up because we'd been reunited. Something to do with chemicals."

"Wow," Aiden mouthed, running a hand through his hair in the same way Bridget did, whenever she was nervous or afraid.

"These past few nights, though, they've sort of reappeared, but different," Bridget went on.

"How?" Aiden questioned.

"They aren't as scary, though I certainly should be afraid, and I don't wake up screaming. And I don't get sick," Bridget babbled, looking down at the grass. She closed her eyes, beginning to pick at the green.

"Well, what do you think it means?"

"Well, Dumbledore did say they could be prophetic-"

"No, Bridget," Aiden interrupted. "You can't predict the future."

"I know, I know, but…"

"But what?" Aiden demanded, becoming annoyed.

"I just thought you'd be getting them too," she mumbled, ashamed to have even brought this up. Aiden exhaled, considering what was at stake for a moment.

"You need to make them go away," he concluded, lifting Bridget's chin up to her eyes met his.

"I know."

"I don't want to here about you having strange nightmares again. It doesn't make me happy," Aiden confessed.

"I'm sorry, Aiden. I'll try."

"Good."

"I love you, brother," Bridget said, hugging Aiden. Aiden smiled slowly, letting his arms think for themselves as he held his sister tightly, remembering life before it was complicated like this. He almost missed it in a sense, but on the other hand-wasn't what lay before him much better.

"You too, sister. I'm so glad we found each other."


	88. The Greatest of These

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling. The quote in the beginning is from the Bible. All credit is placed where it is due.

* * *

_Now these three remain: Faith, Hope, and Love, But the greatest of these is Love - 1 Corinthians 13:13_

The morning broke, and in the first minutes of Harry Potter's awakening he knew that today was different; today was obviously far better than any other day he could have imagined.

For the first time in a week he'd awoken alone, and that part of it all made him a bit downhearted, and it would have possibly ruined his day had the reason of her absence been all to evident in his brain. He laughed at that moment, remembering the exact conversation in which she'd broken the bad news.

_"We can't hang out after today," she'd warned him, furrowing her brow._

_"What?" Harry had demanded, the confusion and annoyance bubbling up inside of him._

_"Well, I mean we can, just not until after the wedding."_

_"What the hell?"_

_"It's TRADITION!" Bridget exclaimed, throwing her arms up in exasperation._

The conversation had gone on, but Harry had tuned her out after that, a skill he had so carefully picked up over the year. After, of course, he'd felt slightly guilty. She would soon be his wife, and was it really right for him to ignore her in such a rude way? On the other hand, he supposed many husbands played the same card, and he was glad it was something he learned so early in the game. He had a feeling that now that he would officially be with her for the rest of his life he'd need to tune her out more than once.

At that particular moment another wave of realization crashed down on him just as a certain boy walked in the room.

"You're up," came the voice from the doorway. Today was his wedding day, a day that he'd never imagined happening to him, especially with the conditions that were placed upon his shoulder. It had come all too fast, however, and now was the time.

"Where have you been?" was the question that he asked.

"Doing you a favor, mate," was the reply of his best friend. Harry's eyebrow raised.

"What would that be?"

"I sent Hermione to double check that Bridget was awake for you," quipped Ron, patting the raven haired boy on the shoulder. Harry rolled his eyes, only slightly offended that his friends would think so lowly of the girl he loved. He was also quite aware they were right, though, and mentally thanked them. His nerves were far too on edge to verbally express anything, though, and suddenly his mind was going faster than the speed of sound.

"Aren't you going to get ready?" asked Harry, panic edging through his tone.

"I'm not getting married, mate. I'll only need a half hour at most, but I understand that you have to have your five hours of girly moments in order to look perfect for your special day," Ron teased, nudging his friend. Harry rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to retort. He closed his shortly after, however, the knowledge that Ron was right creeping into his overcharged brain.

"Bring me some toast later," was the goodbye that Harry offered, for he knew he'd throw up if anything happened beyond that. Ron nodded, grinning gleefully as he left the dorm.

Harry Potter sat down, hardly aware that he had stood up, and sighed, rubbing his temple. He took a moment to slow his brain, and lost himself in his thoughts.

There was a looming knowledge of family, and that was were his thoughts were heading. He knew, though faintly, that today he would leaving the family he had-whatever it may be-and entering into a new one. This new family, he decided, would be like the one that had adopted him in his time of aloneness: The Weasleys. While he certainly didn't want seven hundred kids, he wanted that same feeling of love and home to erupt through his household.

He also realized, that today he was leaving the place of people always looking after him, of always having some sort of adult figure to take up the role of parent and direct him in the right direction. While he had never had the literal form of the word, he knew that there had been plenty of people there for him, something he was immensely thankful for. Today, though, he would enter the new family where he would have to learn to be that adult figure, even without kids of his own to teach. He would have to learn responsibility, and for once in his life it didn't scare him.

This was Bridget he was talking about; Bridget was to be his family. Yes, he was certainly aware that sometimes Bridget could be the equivalent of talking to a five year old, but he loved every bit of her, including the pieces that were obnoxious and loud. Maybe he truly did need counseling.

Suddenly, his mind drifted towards the family he never had: The Potters.

He was pleased to recognize the similarities between his parents and him. He knew from the stories the other Marauders had told him that his mother had, in fact, despised his father before seventh year, and that they too had had their fair share of arguments. In this same way he and Bridget fought more than half the time, and in any other occasion, in a normal world, they should have hated each other. They should have despised each other the very last hair on their head. That was what made sense in Harry's brain, the logical part of it, at least. From the very beginning logic had said "Hate her, Harry. Look who her father is, and besides you don't get along anyway."

Harry was never one to listen to instructions, however, and fate had its way and threw him into love with her. He was only so lucky enough that she loved him back, almost as much as he loved her. He berated himself for being so blind to it before. He should have realized from that first kiss that they were destined for each other. He shouldn't have ignored his feelings for so long, and maybe if he hadn't he could have been with her longer. He could have made life easier for her, protected her from everything that beat against her.

They were made to hate each other, but somehow it didn't work. Love was stronger.

Quite suddenly, Lillian threw herself into his mind, and a jolt of love for the sister he hardly knew erupting from his very soul. This was her doing, he knew. Somehow, through some cosmic event, she knew this had to happen. Through the loss and the pain, and everything that came with it concerning her not-so-timely death Harry had found Bridget in the ashes. They'd started their own fire, and even though it sometimes burned to a point of destruction, and even though it sometimes faded away into a faint spark, they always found their happy medium. Harry always found Bridget.

He mentally sent up his thanks and his love to the family that had all passed on, but he let the hurt that caused pass away. He had faith, he had hope, and most importantly he had love.

It was time for Harry to embrace the real world now, though. Ron was right; a man's wedding day was the only day he was allowed to prissily fuss about with his looks. With the hair on top of this boy's head he was going to need all the time he could get. Everything was going to be perfect; he could feel it.

He'd just have to ignore that irritating feeling in the gut of his stomach that everything was going terribly, terribly wrong.

--

_Hope_

When Bridget Riddle woke up she knew that there was something about today that was important. She was more than certain that she should have been up by now, but it was Friday, wasn't it? She didn't _really_ have to attend class, did she? Oh, but there was something, and had the blankets not surrounded her, engulfing her in their warmth and comfort she might have realized. There certainly was a difference in the way she woke up, though. It was colder, almost, though she'd piled on pounds of blanket.

"Bridget Hope Riddle," yelled the screeching voice of Hermione Granger as the door was thrown open, a rush of cold air and comprehension entering the room.

"Damn," the blonde muttered, wincing at the rage of Hermione, who while being a wonderful friend, was also a bit scary.

"What the hell are you doing in bed?"

"Well, sleeping would be-"

"Don't start with me," Hermione scolded, and Bridget half expected her to add a "young lady" to the end of the sentence. Bridget was not a young, though, and she was certainly not a lady. Hermione wouldn't dare.

"Piss off," groaned the girl, who had always been a little bit slow, so it seemed.

"Harry has to be on drugs. Get up!" exclaimed the brunette as she threw the covers off the bride-to-be. The immediate chill opened Bridget's eyes as she sat up in bed, about ready to throw up.

_"Damn."_

"I thought that much," Hermione sighed, taking Bridget's arm and helping her up. "You're lucky to have a friend like Ron, you know."

"I knew that much," Bridget mumbled.

"He's the one that knew this would happen. Harry was up hours ago, you know. He's been tossing and turning all night."

"So you've been in his room?" Bridget asked, eyebrow raised.

"I don't have to. It's Harry; it's not like he sleeps anyway," Hermione retorted. Bridget laughed quietly, but the nerves were hindering any sort of movement.

"I can't believe this is happening," she groaned, something in her stirring angrily.

"Yes, well, I can't believe you almost slept through it."

"I have to get ready," came the pitiful voice of Bridget Riddle, who was only a little bit depressed that she didn't get to sleep in. The idea of what was to come was enough to console her, though, and inside the butterflies erupted. Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Will you be needing my aid?" she asked. Bridget nodded. She was angry that she had slept in like so, and even a little bit ashamed. Could one really blame her, though? Tonight, probably because of nerves, was the first night in a long time that no nightmares had haunted her. Well, her sleep had been fairly restless with worries of her wedding day, but Bridget almost welcomed it; she was pleased to know that she could, in fact, fuss about normal teenage things. As if marriage was normal.

"Off the bathroom, then," Hermione ordered, grinning. "You might as well get the puking over now."

"Your support astounds me," Bridget snapped, but obliged as she retreated into a quieter place where she could think. It was time her thoughts caught up with her body. She was anxious to see Stacey, the only real family she had invited. As a child the women had been there to take care of her, and it was only appropriate that she was here now, on such an important day. However, Bridget had always been so used to taking care of herself. She accepted support from friends, but overall Bridget always imagined that in the end it would always be her and only her. She'd learned to manage herself, take care of herself, and be wry of strangers, especially when they seemed to know her father.

Now, things were changing. Alone she would not be, and so managing herself would not be her job alone. Suddenly, there was somebody there, and somebody she knew would never let her down. Harry never let anybody down.

Fear snuck its way inside Bridget's body, fogging up her vision. There was a possibility of death, something that chilled to bride-to-be to the very bone. There was a hate inside her father, and her decision to john sides permanently with Harry Potter could only fuel the fire, creating a wedge between the balance that had already begun to dangle on an edge, tilting too far towards one direction. After today Bridget could no longer converse safely or logically with her father. There was no more dancing around the subjects that broke them apart, no more ignoring her obvious defiance. Everything was changing.

Blinking, Bridget realized that she maybe should have been crying, but was that even possible anymore? When was the last time that girl had shed a tear? Today was her wedding day, something crazy like that was supposed to happen. Hanging her head, Bridget let herself remember how it was before, when she was little and had hardly a care. A shot of pain hit her heart, knowing that her best friend could not be here to see her brother marry.

"Lillian," whispered the blonde, eyes wide in melancholy. She should have been here. She should have been alive and well to witness the glorious event that was to be taking place today. Yet, at the same time, would they even be here if not for her and her death? Bridget was confident in the strength of her and Harry's love, but had it not been for Lillian's sacrifice would they have ever gotten the chance?

The answer was clear.

"Bridget Hope Riddle I swear if you're in there moping about something I will personally gauge your eyes out!" came the loud voice of Hermione. Bridget laughed, standing up. Hermione was right; there was no logical reason for the girl to be moping.

"I am not moping," she defended anyway.

"Oh, shut up and get out here already! I want to see your dress!" Hermione exclaimed, excitement bubbling inside of her. Bridget snickered, feeling her own dose of enthusiasm. She placed her hand on the doorknob, pausing only for a moment to consider.

Because even though Bridget was sure of the perfection of the day, who could ignore the raging feeling that everything was so terribly, terribly wrong?

--

Weddings, as it was quickly shown, were like being late for a meeting everybody else was early for. As everybody danced around her, fussing over her clothes and hair, Bridget could do nothing to stare at herself in the mirror. In the room with her was Hermione, her maid of honor, Ginny Weasley, and Sam, Harry's old girlfriend. It was a little ironic that the ex was a bridesmaid at the wedding, but she was a nice girl and Bridget needed to find another bridesmaid anyway to match Harry's groomsmen. It worked out quite well, actually. The best man was Ron, who would end up with Hermione. Then Ginny would dance with Neville and Sam with Seamus.

"You know, I've always sort of had my eyes on Seamus," Sam commented, turning the attention towards herself. A coy smile played lightly on her face, and Ginny's eyes rolled.

"Can you please try to not make this day about you?" she joked, playing hitting her friend. Sam rolled her eyes and Bridget smiled, but did not tear her own eyes away from the mirror she was still staring into. It wasn't as if she was being conceited, for while Bridget did look beautiful, it was not something she was concerning with at the moment in time. Looking at herself, she could not believe how this had happened to her. One moment she was alone and the next she was married.

"You really do look beautiful," Hermione commented, smiling as she fixed a loose strand of hair. Bridget glanced at her friend, and then back towards the mirror. Echoes of agreement chorused from the two other girls in the room and Bridget laughed, nodding. Her hair was up in an elegant bun, bangs sweeping down across her eyes with only a few curls loose. Her dress was strapless, tight around the waist before becoming loose as it went down. There was simplistic embroidery around the bosom, but nothing too fancy. In fact, Bridget liked things better simple. The wedding was to be calm, nothing too extravagant.

"I can't believe you're getting married, and to Harry!" Sam exclaimed, grinning. "He always seemed to distracted to concern himself with anything important, like girlfriends."

"Maybe he was just distracted by Bridget," Ginny quipped, winking. Hermione shook her head. brbr

"You too are impossible," spoke the brunette. The retort of Sam was cut off, however, with a nock on the door.

"Are you all decent?"

"Ron?" Hermione questioned, opening the door. "What are you doing here?"

Ron Weasley opened his mouth, but it was plain that his intentions of speaking would have to be put on hold. The poor red head was not prepared to be faced with such beauty as that of Hermione Granger. His blue eyes were wide in awe, and all composure he had arrived with had evaporated the moment he saw her. There was a goofy smile on his face, almost as if he'd decided it would be better to drink before the wedding instead of at the reception. The two of them, Ron and Hermione, did not speak in favor of silence.

"Ronald, please, you're drooling," Ginny scolded, and the moment was over. Ron cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair.

"S-sorry," he stuttered, and then turned his attention to the bride, a beauty that was far less distracting for the boy. "I was wondering if I could talk to Bee?"

"Of course, Ron," Bridget laughed, a twinkle in her eye.

"Let's go get ready, then," Sam declared, beckoning Ginny and Hermione out the door.

"Hey lover boy," taunted Bridget as she was left alone with Ron.

"What?"

"Oh, don't pretend that whole stare fest between you and Hermione didn't happen. You guys were totally having sex with your eyes," teased the girl. Ron turned a lovely crimson, his face and hair meshing together.

"I'd kill you, but would rather not explain to the groom what happened to his bride," commented Ron. Bridget laughed, shrugging her shoulders.

"I understand."

"Besides, it's not as if you'll be any better."

"I have an excuse; you don't," defended Bridget, glaring. Ron smiled, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

"You look beautiful," he muttered.

"Thanks," replied Bridget, and there was a pause in the conversation. Birds were chirping outside, and the girl was pleased with the weather. There were clouds in the sky, but slowly the sun was burning through them, and there was something in the way the light hit the newly blooming flowers that made everything so natural and perfect.

"Look, I know that after today you'll technically be Harry's responsibility-thank God-but you should know that no matter what happen I will _always_ be there for you," Ron finally spoke, eyes bright with sincerity.

"Ron," Bridget sighed, and then embraced her friend. "Thank you so much, not just for this, but for everything."

"Oh, I mean, it was nothing," Ron muttered, his cheeks beginning to turn red again. Bridget released him from her arms, pausing as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

"No, it was everything. You believed in me and trusted me and took the time to really know even though it meant arguing with your best friend. Without you I'd be alone, and probably in a huge argument with Harry."

"I do not doubt that," Ron retorted, chuckling. He paused once more, listening for something Bridget could not hear.

"Ron?"

"The wedding is going to start soon, and you especially can not be late," Ron teased, poking Bridget in the side. She rolled her eyes, nudging him back.

"Of course."

"Just one last thing before we depart?"

"Yes, Ronald?"

"I love you, and I always will," Ron confessed, and Bridget smiled, hugging her best friend once more.

"You too, mate. Hermione's a lucky girl."

"And you aren't?" Ron questioned, eyebrow raised. "I must be off, now, though. This is goodbye, Bee," he declared.

"What?"

"Next time I see you you'll be Bridget Hope Potter. God help us all."

--

_Love_

The music was loud as the wedding began, everybody on the grounds filled with excitement. Both Harry and Bridget agreed it would take place outside, with Dumbledore as the minister. The groomsmen and bridesmaids all filled in, standing in their appropriate positions. In the middle of it all was Harry, almost sweating with nerves. All day his mind had been going through all the horrible things that could happen. It ranged from Voldemort showing up to Bridget not showing up and back again. Ron patted his friend on the back, sensing his insecurities before whispering in his ear.

"Don't worry. She's coming."

Harry had faith that she would arrive, but the few seconds of waiting felt more like a few hours, and all the pieces of him were jumbling up; it was possible that he could faint from anxiousness.

As the music hit its highest note he saw her, turning around the corner and appearing, far more beautiful that could have ever imagined. Next to her was Aiden, but he might as well have not come at all; Harry only had eyes for Bridget. Her eyes were alit with joy, a fitting smile on her face. Her skin was flushed, but the way her hair framed it made her like a Greek god. Suddenly, all the other people in the room were gone; it was just him and her. Harry and Bridget. He locked eyes with her, and her face seemed to be in a permanent grin. He mimicked her features, regaining the composure he had lost the minute he saw her. All the nervousness he'd been feeling just seconds before had disappeared, replaced with all the love he'd ever felt. All too soon she was standing in front of him and Dumbledore was talking, but all he could focus on was her face.

Bridget's emotions were almost exactly the same as Harry's, a calm feeling surrounding the two and blocking out any other distractions. She was sure some vows were spoken, but she heard nothing. It was just his lips moving and somehow hers did too. She was hyper aware of everything he body did, and even though there was so much going on her mind was becoming fuzzy as the everything that didn't concern his lovely face.

"I love you," he murmured, voice husky and dripping with emotion. She was kissing him, then, embraced in his warm arms and never wanting to leave. The best part was, she'd never have to.

--

"You have to do a toast, Ron, I already did mine," Hermione hissed.

"Hermione-"

"Don't 'Hermione' me!" shrieked the angry bridesmaid and Bridget laughed, nudging her husband.

_Husband_ echoed through Bridget's brain, and nothing could wipe the smile off her face now, not even Ron and Hermione's bickering.

"Excuse me," coughed Ron, who was now standing. Hermione sat next to him, a smug look on her face. "I have known Harry since he was just a little lad, not knowing that pictures moved, you could walk through walls, and there were such classes as 'charms," Ron paused, sending a goofy grin towards his friend for affect.

"Ever since he was born he's always been a troubled boy and everybody knows magic only makes things worse," the red head winked at that moment, and Harry was already getting annoyed.

"Ron," he growled.

"Anyhow," continued the man of honor anyway, "I am proud to say that all of that changed when he met Bridget. Mind you, things only got more complicated from there, but he's never been happier!

"I've watched the two hate each other, argue with each other, ignore each other, snog each other, rant about each other, cry over each other, betray each other, lie to each other, glare at each other, obsess over each other, and finally almost kill each other. And, yet, aside from all of this, every moment they knew each other they fell more in love. How, I'm not sure, because you ask anybody and they'd simply assume that Harry Potter and the daughter of his worst enemy would obviously not get along. You'd be right too, because they don't most of the time.

There's something stronger in them, though, flowing through their veins that connects the two in a way that most of us can only imagine. It's love, kids, and you can see it plainly on their annoying little faces. Even though the world is trying to tear them apart there is no way these two could ever leave each other," Ron finished, grinning from ear to ear before sitting down.

"That was bloody brilliant, Ronald," Bridget teased, raising her hand for a high five that Ron easily returned.

"I'm glad someone thought so," Harry grumbled, obviously displeased.

"Look, it's Hermione that made me do it," Ron defended, holding his hands up. Hermione just shrugged.

"Don't pout, sweetie, you're married now," Bridget joked, nuzzling her head into Harry's arm. This seemed to cheer him up quite a bit, and he was pleasant for the rest of the party, which consisted of Fred and George crashing in the middle of the reception, Aiden glaring at most of the guys who attended, Neville getting too drunk to walk and almost kissing Ginny which ended in Ron almost killing him and finally Sam and Seamus hooking up.

"Surprise," whispered a voice of mischief behind Bridget.

"Gee, I wonder who it could be!"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's Harry Potter?"

"Nah, he's famous, you know. I would absolutely die if I met somebody that famous."

"Oh?" Harry questioned, as Bridget turned to face him.

"Yeah, I mean he's so strong and cute and brave-" Bridget was cut off with a kiss, something she obviously could not deny.

"I love you," whispered the kisser, and Bridget broke away, ducking her head.

"I'm married, you know."

"Lucky guy," Harry murmured, brushing his lips against her neck. Bridget giggled.

"Oh, he is."

"Listen, I talked to Dumbledore and how would you like to have a real live honeymoon?" Harry suggested, winking. Bridget opened her eyes in excitement, squealing.

"Yeah!"

"This weekend, just the two of us. I already packed your bags," Harry informed her. Bridget nodded, ready to follow Harry into whatever she had planned when a rush of remembrance crawled into her brain.

"Wait."

"What is it?" Harry asked, concerned.

"There's just something I have to do."

"Bridget, wait!" called Harry, but she was already running away.

--

_Faith_

The man had been awake for many hours, considering all that was happening, all that was too happen. Never once had he imagined something as disastrous as this to happen, and never once had he just let an event such as this go by without trying to stop it. For days he'd burned with rage over the kin that had betray him, left him in the background. She was no longer part of him, but instead belonging to another, an enemy.

On this day Lord Voldemort had received many letters, each one trying to quench the need he had for revenge, a solution to the mess that had created itself in the form of his daughter. Most of these letters had come from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a place where a large amount of informed followers remained. It was the place of his home, the only place where he was accepted among common people. It was also the place where, as he was informed various times today in various letters, he was betrayed finally and officially by Bridget Riddle.

Now, he was receiving a final owl, carrying a single envelope. Curious, the letter was ripped, a single picture falling out. It was of the wedding, which had taken place only a few hours ago. Inhaling angrily, the picture was examined. She was dressed quite nicely, smiling as she kissed the Potter boy. Radiating with fury the picture was crumpled, and Lord Voldemort moved on to the letter that accompanied it.

_Father,_

_I'm sure you've heard by now.._

Every word added to the rising rage, and slowly all the plans he'd perfected were slipping away. All he'd ever worked for was fading, for now he was betrayed. Now he was destroyed.

_I've fought for this, and now I have it. You can do nothing. We're stronger than you ever will be._

Carefully, his eyes scanned over the message he'd been sent, and it was by far the most enraging, but most important one he'd received all day. She'd stopped him, single handedly, and now the future was fuzzy, the truth unsure. For now, there would have to be a pause, a hiatus in the works of he and his followers. There was no longer anything distinct, no longer anything he could count on. He'd been sent through a spiral of change, and it was all coming down on him hard.

_I know there has been prophecy, but I don't care. Things can change, nothing it set in stone and you will not win this war._

Though he would never admit it, part of him agreed with his daughter. Now, after what she'd done, what were the chances? Everything had gone wrong, and it would take much time before anything could be done to set things back on track. Time was what they needed, wasn't it? An upper hand had been laid down, and it was not on him.

_I'm not part of you any longer. I do not belong to you. We might as well not be related, for I no longer even hold your pitiful last name. I am Harry's. I am part of him, as he is part of me. You, you are on the opposing side._

At this note the Dark Lord stopped, considering for a moment everything that had just been written, and suddenly something in him shifted. He knew of the prophecy that had been released only this year, and while it showed him that he was to win, it showed him nothing else. It confused him, causing him to lose many hours pondering over it.

_Good-bye._

_Bridget Hope Potter_

The haze broke like glass before him, the fog being burned by a sun showing him the light. Showing him the truth. The messy scrawl of his daughter, the way she signed her name, had showed him a truth he'd never imagined he would find. It had shown him a way, a possibility, and it was obvious now the way he was defeat Harry Potter.

To him, and to all around him, the prophecies concerning him and Harry Potter were always circling around Harry Potter. That is what this war was all about. It was a battle that would lead to the final stretch, the face off, the moment where he was to either kill or be killed by Harry James Potter. It was known, bluntly known, that it was all about killing Harry Potter.

He was wrong, though. He was so, so, completely wrong. It was all clear to him now. It all made sense. It had never really been about Harry Potter. No, no, it had been about somebody else entirely.

Something resembling a smile formed itself on Lord Voldemort's face, and he was ever so thankful for the letter of betray sent from his very own daughter.

It was ever so evident that suddenly everything was going terribly according to plan.

--

"How's it feel to be married, sis?" Aiden asked, leaning against the wall. Bridget jumped, surprised to see him.

"Amazing. You should try it sometime."

"No, thanks," Aiden snorted, walking the same pace as Bridget.

"Well you're missing out."

"Where are you going?" asked Aiden, eyebrow raised.

"Honeymoon, baby," Bridget giggled, swiping some hair out of her face. Aiden gave her a look of concern.

"You're going to be careful, right?"

"Careful?" Bridget question, confused. Aiden coughed, gesturing with his hands. Realization hit Bridget as she smiled, prospects of what was to come more evident than before in her brain.

"You know I won't be," she laughed, skipping ahead.

"Gosh, Bee, was that necessary?" Aiden groaned, struggling to keep up with her.

"Totally."

"But why?" he complained, a look of disgust on his face.

"You're the one who brought it up. I did nothing," Bridget declared, defending herself against the false accusations of her one and only brother.

"He'll be good to you, right? You haven't...done it before...have you?" Aiden spoke, carefully ordering his words. Bridget sighed, astounded that she was actually having this conversation.

"No I haven't and neither has he," she explained.

"Really? Are you completely sure?"

"Yes!" shrieked Bridget, throwing her arms up.

"Fine. Just be careful," Aiden repeated.

"I will. Now if you excuse me I have somebody I have to meet!"

"Whatever. Go have sex," Aiden groaned.

"I will."


	89. Island Beyond the Seas

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

"Where are we going?" Bridget Potter whined, following Harry into the forest. "In there does not look like a sensible place to go, in case you're confused."

"Will you be quiet!" Harry hissed, brandishing his wand. Bridget scoffed and he flashed her a smile, muttered a spell.

"But really, what are we doing? Are we going to get in trouble? Because, you know, I can imagine we've already broken seven thousand rules in the past week, but Dumbledore let it slip because he likes you. I wouldn't want to push our luck, though."

"My mum and dad found this beautiful place; I saw pictures of it from old stuff you gave me," Harry informed her, grinning proudly. Bridget glanced down at her finger, admiring the beautiful ring that had belonged to Lily Potter. She sighed.

"I always feel so wrong, though, be involved with stuff that was your parents. It seems like it should be yours," she admitted, looking down. Harry rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around her.

"You are my wife now. What is mine is yours," he told her. "Besides, the actual house is a mess. It's the scenery that makes it worth visiting."

"Oh, I see. And where would this place be?"

"It's an island, near London, though, so don't worry," he said, winking. "And I made Lupin check it out and make sure everything was safe. Spells and all."

"Lupin?" Bridget gulped.

"Yes, love, you do remember him? He was at the wedding, you know," Harry notified her.

"Oh," Bridget muttered. "I hadn't noticed." She paused, inhaling carefully. "So he's doing alright then?"

"Yes, he's quite well. As well as can be expected, anyway," Harry sighed, glancing around as they entered to Forbidden Forest.

"Oh," Bridget gulped.

"Why?" questioned Harry.

"I just though-I mean, after Christmas," Bridget couldn't finish, and instead simply hung her head in shame. Harry froze as well, wincing at the memory.

"It wasn't your fault," he stated, face defiant.

"I could have done _something _though," Bridget deliberated.

"It was three months ago. Lupin was probably the first to forgive you, aside from Dumbledore. He trusted Dumbledore and knew it wasn't your fault."

"Really?" Bridget asked, hope twinkling in her eyes. Harry nodded, though he seemed solemn.

"Sent me a letter and everything. He said I should've been nicer to you," Harry confessed, shrugging guilty. Bridget laughed.

"You really were a horrible person then, Harry," she teased, nudging him.

"You say it as if it was so long ago!" exclaimed Harry.

"It was, wasn't it?"

"Not really," Harry acknowledged.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, Bee, it's April twentieth now, and you only got out a little over a month ago," Harry explained.

"Does that mean we've only been together about two months?" Bridget exclaimed, throwing her hands up. Harry paused, considering.

"Yeah."

"We should be scolded."

"I've loved you much longer than a month, though, and I don't even care that we rushed it," Harry proclaimed, grinning. Bridget scoffed, shaking her head.

"So how exactly are we getting to this island thing?" she questioned, looking about. Harry grinned, but didn't answer as he pushed away some shrubbery and showed Bridget a clearing.

"No."

"Bridget," Harry pleaded.

"I am not getting on that thing. I am not getting on it, and we are not going to fly to some exotic island with nothing but an old cabin on it," she said, insolently as she crossed her arms.

"Oh, come on! You'll meet regularly with Lord Voldemort, sit in Azkaban for a month and a half, and mouth off to teachers, but you won't go farther than two feet off the ground? I think Buckbeak's offended!" Harry exclaimed, pointing at the white animal, who grunted in agreement.

"I'm _afraid,"_ Bridget squeaked, her voice low and dangerous.

"Nothing is going to happen," Harry told her. "I've done this a million times."

"Hey now, just because you like to jump on random objects and rise fifty feet over the ground does not mean everybody shares your talent!" Bridget yelled, throwing her arms up.

"Now, Bridget, you are a Potter now-" Harry was cut off with her angry wail.

"What if I fall?" she moaned. Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was exasperated already. Bravely, Harry placed his hands on Bridget's soldiers.

"Do you love me?" he asked.

"We've only been dating for two months. I've only known you less than a year!"

"Do you know that I love you?" he questioned again.

"Usually people know each other for at least two years before getting married. This is how broken families start!"

"Do you trust me?" Harry, once again, continued to ask.

"Hermione and Ron have known each other seven years and _they_ don't run of and get married," Bridget muttered, glaring angrily at the ground.

"Do you know that I blindly trusted you, even though you accidentally almost sided with Voldemort and are bluntly obnoxious?" Harry asked, once more, and Bridget stopped rambling about marriage to look at him hopelessly.

"I don't want to," she complained.

"Do you really think I would let you fall off a hippogriff?"

"No," Bridget admitted, sighing. Harry grinned, kissing her on the cheek.

"Good. Now get on! I'll sit behind you," Harry ordered, pointing towards the animal. Buckbeak kicked his hooves in excitement. It had been a while since he'd been for a good fly. Bridget sighed, obliging. Harry gave her an encouraging smile, taking her hand and helping her on the animal.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

The flight went fairly smoothly, but that didn't stop Bridget from being afraid the whole time. She spent most of the time burying her face in her hands. Harry's strong armed were around her waist, keeping her secure on the large, white animal. He whispered encouraging words in her ear every once in a while, but Bridget didn't open her mouth in fear that she might throw up. She figured Buckbeak wouldn't like that.

It turned out that aside from being so high up in the air, the flight was quite smooth. Buckbeak seemed to know where he was going and Harry definitely knew what he was doing. They worked together quite well, in fact.

"Open your eyes," Harry murmured in her ear, and she shuddered at his warm breath on her neck.

"Why?" she choked, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. She heard Harry's incensed sigh.

"Just do it," he said, irate. "Be brave."

Bridget groaned, and then opened on eyes slowly. What she was not only frightened her, but amazed her.

"Wow," she breathed.

"What do you think?" Harry boasted, obviously pleased with himself. He certainly deserved it, though, Bridget decided as Buckbeak became closer with the ground. They were over the Atlantic by now, but the mainland was still in sight, thankfully. From up in the sky the water glimmered gleefully, its blue and green waves reflecting the setting sun.

The sky, on the other hand, was a whole different type of beauty. Its colors ranged from pinks and oranges to purples and reds. Even Buckbeak seemed attracted to it, for at the moment he sped up, soaring towards the horizon. Bridget couldn't help but laugh, ignoring the fact that it came out as more of a mangled hiccup. Despite the splendor, she was still scared stiff.

"Down, Buckbeak," Harry shouted, and the hippogriff changed its course, heading straight for a large piece of land. It was placed randomly, almost, in the middle of the ocean. It was about the size of Hogwarts grounds, which was quite large, but Bridget could probably run the perimeter in one morning. It was all mostly sand, but there were some pieces of left over snow from winter. There were trees all around, though neither Bridget nor Harry could identify them.

In the middle of the island was a small house, no bigger than the Gryffindor common room. It looked sturdy enough, but not full of the greatest luxuries. In the back of Bridget's mind she briefly wondered what it was used for before the Potter family decided it would make a great honey moon spot. She shuddered to think about the possibility that it was always used for that purpose.

Buckbeak had begun to plunge towards the ground, and Bridget squeezed her eyes shut once more. She screamed out loud, feeling her stomach churn as she became closer to the sand. Finally, not soon enough, they landed.

"Come on, Bee, time to get off," Harry chuckled, helping to hoist her off the animal. Bridget sighed, falling to the ground immediately. Harry rolled his eyes, pulling a dead ferret out of a stray bad.

"You really are a good boy, Buckbeak."

--

"So tell me again why we couldn't have just apperated?" questioned Bridget. Since they arrived she'd crawled over to the edge of the island, laying down on the sand. The water danced around her feet, and the sound of waves echoed in her ears.

"It wouldn't have been as _magical,"_ Harry explained. Bridget faced him, raising an eyebrow with the intent on informing him she was a witch and sick of magic, but instead burst into a fit of laughter.

"You-your face!"

"What's wrong with my face?" Harry exclaimed, looking offended. Bridget giggled, scooting next to him for a kiss. Then she placed her head on his chest, sighing.

"I'm a witch, Harry. Magical things don't surprise me," she declared.

"I'm sure," Harry agreed, sitting up. Bridget groaned, falling off his body and back down to the ground.

"Thanks for that, dear, I would have loved a warning," Bridget grumbled, sitting up as well to face to sea.

"Admit it."

"What?"

"You love it here!" Harry yelled, waving his arms about.

"It's nice," she sighed, shrugging. Harry glared.

"Here I go, trying to be all romantic for you and what do I get?" he mumbled, shaking his head.

"It's your fault for marrying me, Maybe if you waited longer than two months," she trailed, off, a smirk planted happily on her face.

"Will you piss off?"

"Excuse me? You can't get rid of me now? You're stuck with me, I believe. So, I don't even want to hear it from you," Bridget scolded. Then she crossed her arms, staring out into the distance.

"Yes, well," Harry muttered before a silence fell over them. They took these treasured moments happily, soaking up the beauty of the island. It had become dark, the only light coming from a fire Harry had lit a while ago with his wand.

The seconds ticked by as they both considered their lives and how they'd somehow melted together. The events that took place before they finally met in the middle, ending up on an isolated island bantering on about heights and months and romance. A chill brushed through the trees and Bridget made her way over to Harry's arms. He gladly welcomed her, and she happily came to a resting place with him. They were both still staring at the horizon, the darkness of the ocean, and the starts twinkling gleefully in the sky.

"I'm sorry you have to live with me," muttered Bridget, grinning bashfully.

"I'll survive," Harry sighed, brushing his lips against her skin.

"It really is beautiful, Harry. There really is magic," she told him, and he smiled. She always did speak more at night.

"I'm glad you like it here."

"I'd like it anywhere as long as I was with you. But I'm glad you chose here, because now beaches can be, like, our thing," she joked. Harry rolled his eyes, wondering if they'd ever fall out from all the movement.

"I'm glad we were able to get away, though."

"Me too."

"I've almost forgotten all the bad stuff," Bridget told him, grinning. She sighed in ecstasy, a pleasure settling in her stomach.

"There's bad stuff now?" Harry asked, amused. Bridget giggled.

"I wish I could stay forever."

"Me too," Harry agreed, wondering what would happen if he did. Here everything was good. There was no prophecy about his death, no worries over Voldemort's quickly rising power, and not even piles of homework and Hermione fretting over the looming exams. It was almost depressing to think that he'd have to go back to all of that.

"I'd miss everybody, though. Aiden would kill us too," Bridget added, shrugging.

"Oh, yes, _Aiden."_

"What? You don't like my brother?" Bridget queried, faux offended.

"No, I think he's just dandy," Harry mocked, smirking.

"Goodness, we argue over everything," Bridget sighed, brushing a stray blonde lock behind her ear.

"That is a lie," Harry defended.

"Harry, when you met Aiden you thought I was cheating on you," Bridget retorted.

"Well you just welcomed him in and what was I to expect?"

"He's family, Harry, _family,"_

"Well _I didn't know that,"_

"Told you we fight over everything. Honestly, if I didn't love you so damn much."

"Well I love you too, if it makes a difference. I don't even mind that whole incest thing you've got going on," Harry drawled on.

"Will you shut up! If I wanted to be with somebody else I would. It certainly would have been safer."

"Are you breaking up with me?" Harry suggested, appalled.

"No, because as it turns out, I'm only happy with you."

"Aw, thanks."

"Harry James Potter, even though you're an insufferable git, I love you more than anybody I have ever met in my life," Bridget proclaimed.

"And I you, Bridget Hope _Potter."_

--

"Hey Harry?"

"Yes, Bridget?"

"You know how we were joking about how long we've known each other?" she asked, digging her toes into the sand.

"I remember," Harry said.

"Do you think it would have been different if we'd known each other longer?"

Harry paused for a moment to consider, imagining what it would have been like if he'd known Bridget as long as he'd known Ron and Hermione.

"No," he finally decided.

"Really?" Bridget inquired.

"I mean, if you were a normal kid and came to Hogwarts with the rest of us it probably would have taken longer for us to know each other, and we'd still probably go through all these trust issues. I don't think it would be as bad, though. I don't think you would have gone to Azkaban, but then again, I don't know what Voldemort would have done," Harry mused, trying to imagine what it would have been like.

"Yeah, but I'm glad it turned out the way it did," Bridget decided, nodding. Harry gave her an awkward look, laughing.

"Why?"

"Well, yeah, most of it sucked, and if it were different I think less people would have gotten hurt, but we wouldn't have been the same," Bridget deliberated.

"Sure we would have. No matter what I think we would have ended up right here either way," Harry affirmed.

"But if Lillian hadn't," Bridget stopped for a minute, remembering her best friend. "And then there's Draco," she added, choking on her words. "Will, the first year, and even Hermione had that coma!"

"What are you talking about, Bee?"

Bridget looked down, sighing. She was ashamed of what she was about to say, afraid it was the truth.

"All those people had to die, and I know it was because of me. That was the motive, but without them," Bridget trailed off, turning her head away to avoid Harry's eyes. He brought his hand to her cheek, brushing his fingers along her jaw line, which was set in anger.

"Tell me," he whispered.

"If they hadn't died, I don't we'd be here. I think we'd still be fighting. And every time I heard another one of them was gone a piece of me broke. Another person I cared about, just because of who my father was!

"But every time I felt as if I needed you more, loved you more, and then we were somehow brought together. And without all those deaths, it wouldn't be the same. You wouldn't love me the same!"

"That's not true, Bridget!" Harry yelled, but he was ignored; she just kept talking.

"That's not the worst, Harry. The thing is, I can't decide which one I'd want more: Having you here, now, or having them back."

--

"Hungry?" Harry asked, turning to face his wife. She'd been sitting cross legged in the sand, drawing pictures with her fingers. Every once in a while the waves would come up too close, washing them ago. She didn't seem to mind, though, and simply continued etching little doodles into the sand.

It was late now, but Harry wasn't tired. Even though it had only been a couple hours he felt like it had been forever since the wedding. He'd been so happy with Bridget, laughing and bickering and convincing her to ride hippogriffs. Then, night fell, and she started talking. He started remembering.

He thought about what she'd said, and considered whether it was true or not. Harry knew-he'd known for a while now-that he could never stop loving Bridget, and that without her he'd be whither away. Harry remembered quite well what it was like before they'd gotten together, and he didn't realize until now what I mess he was. He had been so angry, so depressed, and he'd even fought with Ron, who had probably already been burdened with grief. He remembered what it was like when Hermione was gone, and Harry also knew that Ron missed Bridget too, even when he didn't.

In a nutshell, without Bridget, Harry was lost.

Right now, however, he was a bit irked with her. Why did she have to bring up his sister? While the ache in his heart had been dulled, it was not yet numbed. He missed her terribly, even though he only knew her for a short time. What was it about this war that always had him filled with pain and worry? It wasn't even Bridget's fault that it had been brought up, because how could it have been avoided? Even the happiest of moments conversation almost turned to Voldemort by default. The war was ruining him.

There was also the thought of what she'd said concerning those who'd died. He knew she was right about the reason of their death. Voldemort was clever; he knew what he was doing, and Harry was certain that many of the deaths were connected to Bridget in some way. His daughter was Voldemort's main concern after all. Harry wasn't sure if she was even more important than himself.

"How'd you know?" Bridget kidded, dragging Harry out of his thoughts.

"I just _know_ these things," Harry bragged, beaming.

"Do you really?"

"More like I heard your stomach growl," Harry divulged, standing. He offered Bridget his hand, and she gladly took it.

"I'm quite exited to see this lovely house of yours," she told him, wiggling her eyebrows. Harry laughed, excitement swelling up in him.

"I think you'll like it."

Harry chuckled as she galloped ahead of him, anxious to see the inside of the beloved house.

He supposed he could understand why it was so hard to choose between those they loved and those they lost.


	90. Bodies and Words

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

**WARNING!! For realz. Check it out.**

Alright, so there's sex in this chapter. Not anything terribly graphic/lemon/pornstar worthy but I'm just warning ya'. It IS their honeymoon, so what exactly where you expecting? Unfortunantly, I couldn't manage to single out this chapter and make it not-so-important. There's another one of those damn dreams in it, so...I dunno.

I promise it's more thoughts and actions leading up to the actual "moment." and then I leave it to your imagination. So that's that.

* * *

The house was not very extravagant, it turned out. Any selfish girl would have stuck up her nose at it, but for the two newlyweds it was cozy and warm. A magical fire was burning in the fireplace, cracking merrily and warming out the maroon couch in front of it. There were only three rooms in the house, which was only lit by candles that looked as if they were from centuries ago. Everything seemed to be wooden except for a small kitchen area in the corner which turned into tile. The three rooms included the main room, a small bathroom, and a bedroom.

"It's wonderful," Bridget sighed, falling onto the couch.

"You think so?" commented Harry, walking over to the kitchen. "It's not too beat down for you?" he asked nervously as he ran a hand through his hair. Bridget laughed.

"We're alone and it's perfect," she told him, getting up to see what he was doing.

"What do you want to eat?"

"What is there?"

"Whatever you want," Harry shrugged, looking around in the cabinets. Bridget's gazed followed him, noticing that while there were enough pots and pans to cook three meals at once there was not one bit of food.

"Where's the food?" she questioned, confused. Harry chuckled.

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you, love," he drawled in a strange voice.

"We're going anorexic?" she suggested.

"I'm a wizard."

"Oh. Do wizards not need to eat, then?"

"They need to eat, but they have this strange ability to conjure up food. Now what do you want?" Harry once again asked, but this time his voice was filled with a loving impatience.

"Don't judge me," she mumbled before adding, "Apples."

"Just apples?" inquired Harry, eyebrow raised.

"Yes sir."

"Whatever you wish for," he sighed, waving his wand as a basket of apples appeared. Bridget grinned and grabbed one, taking a large bite.

"Eat slow or you'll throw up," Harry warned only to have a apple shoved into his mouth. Out of pure shock his spit it out, all chewed up, on the ground.

"Real attractive, Harry," Bridget teased, nudging him. He scowled.

"Just because your mouth is twice the size of a normal persons means nothing," he jested, laughing haughtily.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You have a big mouth. Probably from all the talking," Harry retorted lazily.

"Or the kissing," she added, shrugging.

"Really, now? And who have you been kissing?"

"Oh, you know," Bridget sighed, looking down to brush off invisible dust. "I get around," she finished before looking back up to see Harry was slowly making his way towards her. His eyes looked straight into hers and suddenly she knew the air of things was changing. A rush of fear and adrenaline surged through her veins as she knew what was coming.

"I bet you do," he mumbled, snaking an arm around her waist as he pulled her closer to him. She felt shy as she looked up at him, a slow grin forming on her face. He returned it, a hunger burning strong in his beautiful emerald eyes. Bridget clutched him desperately, tugging at his clothes lightly as she swayed slightly.

"Bedroom?" she whispered, a blush creeping on her face. Harry nodded, flashing his teeth as his lips landed on hers, eager and loving as he coaxed her carefully into the bedroom, his hands only leaving her body to prevent them from running into any walls.

Bridget tugged at his shirt, only allowing his lips to part from hers as they both removed their tops. Bridget landed roughly on the bed, Harry hovering over her and trailing kisses along her jawbone.

"I love you," he whispered, bringing his lips back up towards her ear. His breath filled her nostrils, a scent like cinnamon and apples.

"You too," she promised, catching his lips with her again. His hands were under her back now, fiddling hopelessly with her bra. Clearly, he had not done this before. Bridget shifted to help him and then she was topless, bare in front of her husband.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, his hands cradling her breasts gently. Bridget kissed him more eagerly then, wishing he would stop talking and just let her captivate his mouth with other things.

Her hands tugged at his jeans, easily slipping off his belt. He helped her with the button and them shimmied out of his trousers easily. She mirrored his actions, her jeans falling on the floor, no longer important. She clutched Harry closer to her, desperate to feel him all over, inside of her, his mouth everywhere and hands scorching her with heat and sweat.

Harry paused, though, tearing himself away from her and staring intently into her eyes. Bridget saw the hesitance and wondered if he wanted to do this, wondered if they should…

"Are you okay?"

"Have you done this before?" was all she could manage to choke out. They'd never really talked about life before their relationship; Bridget didn't know if he'd loved anybody else or even considered going this far with another girl.

Bridget knew she hadn't. She felt awkward and uncertain with him hovering over her. She trusted him with her life, but this was bringing things to a whole knew level she'd never had to deal with before. She'd joked about it often, but it had never been serious. Without realizing it, Bridget felt afraid.

"No!" Harry exclaimed, and then softer, "It's never been like this before."

"Good," Bridget breathed, feeling relieved. "Me either."

"Are you sure this is okay?" he asked again, brushing a lock of hair away from her eyes. "We could wait."

Bridget wasn't sure whether he meant that, but the fact that she had an option of saying no brought her security. Whatever happened she was with Harry and he would never purposely hurt her. Obviously, there were worse things she could be dealing with at that very moment.

"Yes," she decided, nodding reassuringly. Her voice was strong and whatever doubt that lingered in her heart was brushed away. She'd married this boy and wanted all of him, all that came with that promise of love. She wanted to be bound to him in every way possible.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

And so they made love.

--

_Laughing with friends, Bridget had not a care in the world. She shouldn't have, anyway. Instead, there was a wrenching fear inside of her, causing her to scratch at her bare arms in agony and anticipation. Not one person seemed to notice, however. It was as if everything was fine._

_But everything was not fine! She was in a strange place; apart from her friends there was nothing about the area she recognized. Had they landed here by mistake? She couldn't remember planning any of this. What if this was a plan of Voldemort's? Was he nearby awaiting the perfect moment to attack and kill?_

_It was fairly sunny, and there weren't really any hiding spots around. No shadows or corners or anything indicating something sinister was going on. So what was going on? She was talking and smiling, but could not hear herself. The words were just coming out of her mouth and all she could hear was thing constant laughing. She tried to warn her friends of the alleged dangers to come, but nobody was listening._

_Harry's arm lay lazily around her shoulders and will jolt she jumped, trying to push him away. He didn't even acknowledge her. Her body was tingling uncomfortably. If she didn't get out of her own skin, jump around, do something she might explode. Her mind and body were not connecting, though. She could have been dying, but all hope was lost._

_Quite suddenly, the fear became too much and she screamed. This time her yells were heard, she could control them, but still no one around her paid any attention. The harder she yelled the less they seemed to hear._

"Bridget, wake up! It's just a dream, come on!" Harry exclaimed, shaking his wife as hard as she could. He'd woken up to her tossing and turning in the bed, mumbling warning about Voldemort and attacks. Then she'd gotten louder, begging for somebody to listen to her before finally she'd just started screaming.

Abruptly she shot up in bed, panting hard and clutching her arms.

"Bridget," Harry whispered, concerned. She ran a hand through her hair, coughing and spluttering as she dug her nails into her skin. Her throat hurt from screaming.

"I'm fine," she muttered, waving her hand as if nothing had just happened. Nightmares like these were not new, but this one went beyond all nightmares. For one thing, they usually consisted of something frightening. However, this nightmare should have been nothing more than a dream. There was nothing scary about it whatsoever, so why was Bridget so terrified?

Also, this was the first time in a while that she hadn't been able to control her screams and prevent anybody from waking up. Yes, this nightmare was without question different.

"Don't bullshit me," Harry grumbled angrily, taking her hand. "You wouldn't stop screaming."

"It was _just_ a bad dream."

"Bridget, I can't remember the last time you've had _just _a bad dream. What the hell is going on?" he demanded, glaring. Bridget gulped.

"Nothing," she whimpered. Harry opened his mouth to protect, but then decided against it, shaking his head. "I give up. If you don't want to tell me, fine. But I'm not just going to sit here and let you blow it off."

"Where are you going?" Bridget question as Harry got out of bed and pulled on some pants before leaving into the main room.

"Nowhere."

"What are you doing, Dammit!?" Bridget called, following him.

"Writing Dumbledore. If you aren't going to do anything about it, I will."

"Harry, don't be stupid. We've already talked to Dumbledore about these dreams. What else to you expect him to say? Besides, don't you think we've already bothered him enough?"

"Oh, come off it. Don't tell me you don't know?"

"Know what?"

"I'm not even the one having these nightmares and even I know that this one was different," Harry sighed, dropping the quill he was holding and getting up to take her hand.

"It was nothing," she told him, looking down.

"Bee-"

"No!" Bridget interjected. "I mean it was nothing. I shouldn't have been afraid because it was nothing to be afraid of."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. Bridget sighed, heading over to the once welcoming couch. By now everything just looked angry, but she sat down anyway, burying her face in her hands.

"I don't know were we were, but it was you, Hermione, Ron, and Aiden and it was sunny outside and we were laughing."

"I don't get it."

"I don't know why, but I just felt afraid. Everything just felt wrong, but I couldn't talk to anybody about it. I couldn't control my own thoughts and movements. All I could feel was fear, though," Bridget explained, eyebrows furrowed angrily.

"Something's changed," Harry stated bluntly. He was unsure what had brought him to this conclusion; he didn't feel any different. Even if he did feel different it wasn't a bad different, though. He'd just had the most amazing night of his life and he'd spent it with the most amazing girl he'd ever met, getting to know every inch of her in ways he hadn't known possible.

"How?"

"I don't know."

--

"I'm really sorry, Harry," Bridget murmured, turning around to face him. They'd both returned to the bedroom, fatigue taking over their minds. Neither of them wanted to face anything too troubling that night; naturally, sleep was the only answer.

"What?" Harry asked, opening his eyes.

"I didn't mean to ruin tonight. We were so happy and then I just went and screwed things up…"

"Don't think that way. It's not your fault," Harry reassured, placing his hand on her cheek.

"But-"

"Don't make excuses not to be with me. It's too late now," Harry teased, a goofy grin dancing about upon his features.

"You know, it doesn't feel like we're married. I thought things would have gotten easier or something, you know?" Bridget mused.

"I was hoping things would be, but I'm not surprised they aren't," Harry admitted, shrugging slightly.

"How sad is it that we've gotten used to things going wrong?" Bridget sighed, snuggling into Harry.

"It is a war," he replied.

"Whatever," she said, brushing it off. Her brain was tired, and she didn't want to face any of the disasters she knew were brewing at this very moment.

"You okay?" Harry questioned after a moment's silence.

"Yeah, I think. I just don't want to sleep."

"You don't have to be afraid," Harry consoled, kissing her. She grinned, kissing him back as she ran her hands over his chest. He looked up at her, smirking. She bit her lip, a mischievous look in her eye. Quickly, all they'd just been dealing with was pushed aside in favor of much happier thoughts.

"Yeah, I wasn't so tired anyway," Harry mumbled, sliding off her bottoms once more.

--

"Do we have to go back?" Bridget complained, resting her head in her hands. She'd awoken that morning to the smells of breakfast drifting into the bedroom. She hadn't known Harry could cook, but he'd explained to her all the meals he'd have to make while living with the Dursley's. She hadn't known about them either, and Harry had to explain that after his parents died the only family he had left was his pompous muggle aunt and her husband and child. Bridget joked that she'd rather be the daughter of a rude muggle than a murderous wizard, but she still felt sorry for Harry. At least he had the opportunity to have loving parents before they were ripped away from him.

"I'm afraid we do, Bee," Harry sighed, placing a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her. "Exams are coming up."

"What?" Bridget choked, spitting out some egg.

"Very attractive," commented Harry, gazing at the half chewed food in disgust.

"I've never had a real exam before. These are our NEWTS too!" she cried.

"Hey, settle down. I'm sure Hermione will help you. You can imagine what a fuss she's probably in right now. Poor Ron," teased Harry, laughing.

"That's not very reassuring," Bridget grumbled, crossing her arms. Harry examined her closely, rolling his eyes. She was a mess.

Last she hadn't got much sleep. They'd been busy doing other things, and even when she did sleep her rest was corrupted by nightmares. Because of this there were bags under her eyes and her hair was especially messy. Make up was smeared all along her eyes and her clothes had been thrown on lazily. They were wrinkled and mismatching.

"Were you awake when you dressed this morning?" he questioned, eyebrow raised.

"Excuse me?" she demanded, looking up, appalled. Harry gave her an amused smile.

"You look like you've just been through a washing machine."

"You know, Harry, that's just a very polite thing to say to somebody, especially a girl. You just be lucky I don't have low self esteem," Bridget ranted, throwing her arms about widely.

"Oh, don't worry," Harry chuckled, coming over to wrap his arms around her. "You're beautiful. Especially last night."

"You're a loser," she retorted. "I feel assaulted."

"Oh, come on now. Finish your breakfast," Harry ordered, releasing her and pointing towards the plate.

"I can't. I'll get fat and ugly and then you'll hate me."

"I'm going to go feed Buckbeak and when I come back I expect you to be ready," Harry told her, rolling his eyes.

"Please don't tell me we have to ride that thing again!" Bridget pleaded, jumping out of her seat and clinging to Harry.

"Hey now. Don't insult her!"

"I think I'll stay here, then. It's quite lovely and the ground just makes me happy," Bridget decided, grinning.

"You'd be here alone, then. I'm going back."

"But why? Wouldn't you rather stay alone here, with me? Nobody to bother us?" Bridget suggested, pressing herself up against him. Harry sighed, echoes of last night flashing through his mind. Comparing those moments to life in the real word Harry _would_ rather stay in seclusion.

"Yes," he admitted finally, his eyes glazing over with the thought of it. Bridget's face lit up as well, pleased to see things were going her way. "But we can't, so you better toughen up," he added, letting go of her and turning to go outside.

"Oh, come on-"

"Who knows what Voldemort's done in our absence. Besides, we still have to figure out that nightmare of yours."

That seemed to shut Bridget up.


	91. Still Dreaming

**Disclaimer: Potterverse belongs to Rowling**

* * *

_The pounding noise ricocheted off the walls, attacking from all angles. All the voices were screaming in her ear, yelling commands she could not understand and would never follow. She felt heavy, as if she was supporting three lives instead of the one she was having so much trouble with already. A letter, sealed with a dangerous sign she could not read, lay ominously on the table. It taunted her, begging for attention. Desire radiated through the thin envelope, calling her to rip open the seal and read what secrets awaited her._

_They begged her no, those people that had been followers her for ages upon ages. She used to trust them, was supposed to trust them, but ignored all their cautions. She broke everything as the letter was ripped open and read, like a child in a candy store she took in the letters, but never understanding. Never knowing._

_Shouts became louder as they begged her to say with them, never leave, she was safe! Their badgering meant nothing, though, because directions were something she hated and would forever be in resentment towards. She tried to calm them, to tell them of the ordinariness of the situation. It did not matter if her words were lies, as long as they shut up! Honestly, what had she ever done to them to cause them to behave in such an atrocious manner? Didn't they-couldn't they-understand? This was how it had always been. Not much had changed. She was still the same._

_An evil erupted in her as the monsters appeared from the walls, their cameo done and over with. She longed to join them as they attacked all those she'd once held dear, but was rooted to her spot. It was unclear whether she was hallucinating or not. Not one person was certain of what was going on. They brandished their wands for the fight, but none came. They were, after all, played a losing game._

--

Bridget awoke, her breathing irregular and heart pumping widely.

"Dammit!" she exclaimed, but kept her voice nothing more than a whisper. She could not believe this was happening again, that the worsened nightmares were increasing in size and context. They'd seemed to be getting better, or at least she'd become able to handle them. It seemed, though, ever since she had gotten married-which was only two days ago-that everything had grown to a mass she could not control. At night there was no way to handle things.

Maybe the dreams were from Voldemort, then. Was it possible for Dumbledore to be wrong about something, or lie? He'd seemed so sure when he explained what the dreams were, but even headmasters had to get some thing wrong. While the dreams were immensely different after the wedding, Bridget was sure they were of the same kind as the ones she had been getting for months now. The change was not that great.

Why, then, was there an unexplainable feeling of foreboding she'd never quite experienced before. Her only logical conclusion was that somehow Voldemort had figured out how to tamper with her dreams. The only question left was probably the most important one, and yet the hardest one to answer.

Why?

"Dammit!" she called again into the air.

--

Having Bridget and Harry come back married was extremely different, and everybody noticed. It wasn't as if they acted any different towards anybody, or even any different towards each other, but there was something awkward and strange about them. A change had taken place in the time they'd been away, and there was simply no way in describing it.

It was the way that they carried themselves, almost. It was as if they were both hyperactively aware of each other in a way that could only be illustrated as supernatural. If there were in any sort of close proximity with each other and one shifted, the other did as well. They shared secret glances together, laughing inwardly at a secret only they knew. They were harmonic, two notes melding together in the same melody.

And yet, even as metamorphic as they were, everything was exactly the same.

They fought regularly, still, and under no circumstance would that ever cease. She laughed so loudly, still, and no soothing voice would ever calm her down. He, still, in the darkness of night, fell to the shadows of the future. Sleep seemed even less frequent than before, black rings forming under their eyes.

Luckily, they did not stick out. The end of the year was looming closer and everybody was staying awake until all hours, but for totally different reasons entirely. Exams were haunting the minds of every student. It seemed, especially for the seventh years, that the fun and games were over. It was time to bear down and study, hope for good grades, and then move on from the petty school life.

Hermione, especially, was having trouble focusing. Throughout the year she'd been distracted but he drama Bridget brought into the trio's lives, and even after that, the worries over Voldemort. He'd been quieter than usual, killing subtly, but never making a direct attack. It was a calm before the storm, and as hard as they tried, anxious thoughts of what was to come could not be ignored.

Almost.

Without a doubt exams were coming closer, and nobody was prepared.

"Ron, please, can you at least make an attempt to be studious?" Hermione pleaded, looking sadly at Ron's almost dusty books. Ron stared down gloomily at them, sighing dramatically.

"Not really," he replied, leaning back in his chair by the fire. In truth, Ron was avoiding studying. He did not want to exams to come, but not for the usual reasons. Ron knew that after the arrival of exams he'd have to graduate school. This in itself was enough to scare Ron to tears, for Hogwarts had always been his second home and he couldn't ever imagine leaving and not coming back.

What was he to do with himself after school? Was he supposed to get a job, or hibernate for a while? Was he supposed to fight Voldemort as determined as Harry was? That was what Harry was doing, right?

Before now decisions had always been partially made for Ron, but now there would be no excuse to ask for help. He was a man now and it was expected that he act like one.

However, acting as he was expected was never one of Ron's strong points. It was, to say, his Achilles Heel.

"You're going to fail, I hope you realize that," Hermione scolded, turning her nose back into another book.

Ron sighed once more, rolling his eyes. He wondered if he was allowed to retake seventh year if he failed all his NEWTS. It was certainly a thought to consider, purposely failing. Change had always scared Ron, after all, and one as big as this was shaking up all his insides, breaking down his walls.

Late at night after most of his roommates had gone to sleep he wondered what would become of him and his friends after school. Lately he'd been feeling lonely in his bed, staring idly at the empty bunk beside him. Harry had moved to Bridget's room quickly after she'd accepted his proposal.

It wasn't that he wasn't happy for them; it was just that their future was fairly secured. Assuming all things went well-which was still undecided-they would always have each other. They were bound in more than one way.

Ron, however, was bound to nobody. If they so decided his friends could desert him after school. They could move on to bigger and better things easily, forgetting about their red-headed friend. While the logical side of him doubted that they would ever do this to him, his insecurities screamed louder and louder as the exams grew closer.

His fears were not to be quieted.

"Oh, Ronald, do you ever listen, dear? What is to be become of you if you skip out on your NEWTs? Am I speaking with the next Filch?" came the voice of a sickly sweet girl, bounding with joy.

"Harry! Bridget!" Hermione squealed, jumping up to hug them both. Her book lay forgotten on the ground.

"Didn't know we were missed so much," Bridget teased, elbowing Harry happily. He rolled his eyes.

"You're the one who didn't want to leave."

"Bridget!" Ron scolded, eyeing his friend carefully. "Were you planning to skip out on exams as well?"

"Well-"

"No, she's just afraid of heights," Harry interjected. Ron cackled with laughter, previous thoughts forgotten with the return of his two best friends. When the four of them were together it was impossible to not be cheerful.

"I'd forgotten what a wimp you were," Ron quipped, only to be rewarded with a punch in the stomach.

"You won't be saying that after you get beat up by a girl."

"Oh, I've missed you," Hermione sighed, grinning broadly.

"We've only been gone a weekend, Hermione," Harry laughed, but inside he was joyous to have such a loyal friend.

"I know, but with everything going on it's just nice to be all together. You never know how much time we have left," Hermione explained, and she didn't mean for it to sound to devastating. She'd meant that after school ended they'd all have to get jobs and houses. She'd meant that they wouldn't all be living together anymore.

She didn't mean that there was a chance one of them might be gone forever, murdered, losing a battle.

She didn't mean for her eyes to dart to Harry before resting anxiously on her own feet. Her cheeks flushed red as an awkward silence overtook the situation.

"You're right," Harry agreed softly.

"I'm sorry," she moaned, ashamed. Ron wrapped an arm around her.

"It's alright."

Bridget bit her lip, watching her friends sadly.

"Cheer up, mates! There's still time. There's always time," she fibbed, mind drifting towards her latest nightmares. She couldn't bear for them to fall into depression at that very moment. They needed to be strong right now, for Bridget was feeling weak.

Without her friends close by she might break.

--

"You mustn't concern yourself with questions you need not know the answers to. There are things we don't know, undoubtedly, because we aren't supposed to know them. And the future, quite simply, is the most prominent of those things," Ginny Weasley said, eyeing Sam, another sixth year, carefully.

"That was very insightful, Gin," Ron teased, sitting down next to his sister, who glared. "When'd you get so smart?"

"I was just telling Sam here why she shouldn't be taking Divination _still," _Ginny explained icily.

"I didn't know the exams would be so hard to study for!" she defended, crossing her arms. Ginny laughed, and then turned her attention to the newlyweds.

"Whoa," she commented, eyes widening. "Dean, Seamus, look!"

The two boys turned around from their current conversation, the eyes of Lavender and Parvarti following.

"They _totally_ had sex," Lavender whispered to her friend, giggling madly.

"Well of course," Seamus commented, grinning deviously, "Why wouldn't they?"

"I know, but it's just so weird!" Parvarti shrieked, calling more attention to the situation. Harry flushed red, sitting down and ducking his head behind Ginny's hear, where it blended nicely.

"My sister, finally deflowered," came a deep voice from behind them. Color flooded into Bridget's face as she turned to face her brother.

"Is that all anybody can think about?" she complained.

"Of course, sis. It's the latest drama!" he chuckled in an unusually high voice. Bridget rolled her eyes, hitting Aiden in the arm. He glared, maybe fiercer than he should have, before walking away and going back to ignoring the Gryffindors like an normal Slytherin.

"He's always so moody," Bridget mentioned, sighing sadly.

"Probably just bitter that you've gotten more action than he," Ron jibed, eyes twinkling with excitement.

"That's debatable. Aiden is quite the slut," Bridget muttered, starting to dig into her lunch.

"Can we please stop talking about sex?" Harry pleased, still not recovering from previous embarrassments. The table rung with laughter as the subject changed back to exams.

"Honestly, Sam, you could probably fake the whole exam the way Trelawney teaches," Hermione sighed, the worries over sixth year exams causing the addition of only more stress to her burden.

"She's right," Ron added, his mouth full. "Just predict your death and you'll probably get extra credit."

"Like I said before, there's no need to know the future."

Bridget grinned as Ginny said this, pondering this thought carefully. For eons the future had been something desired by all. Seers were respected and held high above all others because of their strange powers. It had long been wondered why certain humans were given the gift of sight, while most commoners were left to walk blind in the darkness.

Possibly, centaurs were so discriminated against because of their knowledge. Humans had quickly become jealous of the things they knew, yet would not share. Many desired to know what was in store from them far more than the life of one who was not even human. For years centaurs had been tortured or ignored, and still they would not share those things that they knew.

Bridget was unsure of why there was such a dire need to know what life had in store, because so far all she could find was trouble in the knowledge. It was as if by knowing what was to happen it only assisted in the process.

Had Bridget's father not heard of the prophecy concerning Harry he would have never attacked and they'd have never ended up where they were now.

If Trelawney had just had a prophecy in quiet, with nobody around, would they be so concerned with the looming possibilities of death? Of course, they'd still be distressed, but not like this.

It was as if by knowing the prophecy they were even more bound to it than before, and because of this many were certain Harry's fate as death. Many had given up hope and Voldemort took that for granted, attacking from all edges and crushing from the weakest points.

Yes, Ginny was right. The future was never meant to be told. It would have been better if things were left simply to the unknown.

And with unattainable hope, Bridget craved to go back when she knew nothing about the future. It seemed life was easier then. In fact, it didn't matter how far back she looked. Life had always been easier.

So did that mean it was only getting harder?

--

_She touches fear like an open wound, drawing pictures with her feet while leaving prints on the mud as she runs. She realizes then it was never really abut the destinations, but rather the movement and will to keep going. Her veins bleed angrily as they fight against the open cuts from thorns. She's vaguely wonders if her thorns are physical or metaphorical. Maybe both. She's too focused to deliberate. If only her desire would quiet for just a moment so she could focus, but even when it does the fear returns. She prods it, taunting it, tired of it, and ready to fight. Weak as she is from running, the kind of strength she searchers for is not of the body, but of the mind. Then again, she ponders if her mind is even that strong. After all, she has conformed to this, even after everything that has happened._

_At this moment the fear jolts viciously, thrusting her in the opposite direction of where she was headed. It's all downhill from here, you know._

_She hates herself even more now and questions if she ever really didn't. There was never a part of her that was content with herself and she doubts how it could have been possible that she landed herself to happy when she's filled with so much resentment._

_It makes her sad, rising in her the worst kind of pain. It's the kind that is unexplainable and therefore the hardest to deal with. The dull ache in her heart throbs as she retreats within herself, not willing to face what she can't describe._

_Why is she running anyway? Where exactly is she going?_

_She's almost ready to faint from sadness when the fear hits again._

_The distress hits her like a brick wall and she collapses to the ground, filled to the brim with desperation. She is quite certain she will never be happy again, never stop fearing because she could never be able to get past this wall that can not be penetrated._

_She examines her body, seeing how the red has mixed with blonde and her pale skin tainted by black and blue. She can't remember ever stumbling while running, or for that matter, never actually hurting herself. Then again, she never has been able to feel pain, another curse brought on by the power her father held. Maybe this is why the emotions hurt so much more._

_Haze fell over Bridget's eyes, a black cloaked figure dancing about her happily, ready to feed on her soul. She was losing consciousness, maybe from fighting sleep so long. Were things finally catching up to her. Had she chosen the wrong path, been wrong all along, been making mistakes like these for years now?_

_Was she finally getting what she deserved?_

_Her eyes flickered open and shut as she struggled to stay awake and defend herself against a deadly predator. She was in the middle of nowhere and losing a battle in more than one ways._

_A silver light hung above her eyelids as she shut her eyes for good, flesh hitting dirt, not even caring where she would end up after this. This was her choice, and it was to divert herself down a different path, away from the ones she loved, and towards the one that most loved her._

_How could she have succumbed to this? She was facing evil willingly, and so far, with no intentions to hurt it in mind. Did this make her evil too?_

_Was evil something you were born into, or was it thrust upon you like vegetables onto a young child?_

_Bridget would like to believe that she had a good heart, somewhere, and that all her intentions were for the best. She wanted to believe that she was on the right side-Harry's side-and that it was him she was doing this for._

_That was all a lie though. She was here, going through hell, for nobody but Voldemort. There was no plausible reason for her expedition except that Voldemort was her father, he had asked for her, and so she must see him. Before she'd been so good at avoiding the monster, but now something was different. Everything that haunted her had come down to this, and now all she wanted was answers._

_All she wanted was to know her father._


	92. We are the End

**Disclaimer: Potterverse belongs to Rowling**

* * *

Last night's dream had shocked Bridget so much she fell silent at breakfast that morning, staring curiously at her potatoes.

Her silence did go fairly unnoticed, for today was the first day of final exams. Because of this everybody in the Great Hall that morning was burying their heads into books, leaving no room to notice the significant change about the blonde.

The dream was not so much different as it was strange. This was something Bridget felt the need to consider deeply, but never to the extent that she had before. It was of the same context as the dreams she had been getting ever since her marriage, and she was beginning to piece some things together.

It was as if the dreams, once strung together, were telling her a story, maybe a warning, showing her something in the future. Dumbledore had told her that her dreams were not prophetic, but would this hinder the fates from showing her what they wanted her to know?

Bridget sighed, replaying last night's dream once more, comparing it to the dreams she had when she first discovered them, and then to the dreams she had after her wedding night. It fit into the latter category easily, being more real and far more shocking than the former. Maybe it was just a feeling in Bridget that caused such a distinction.

Firstly, the dream, while frightening and morbid, left no sinister feeling when she awoke in the morning. The memories sent shivers down her spine, and she did not struggle to recall the fear that radiated from all edges. At the same time, though, the fear did not linger into her day. It did not affect her thoughts as she walked towards breakfast. It did not cause her to look around every corner, clutching her husband's hand in terror.

Secondly, during the dream she was no longer restless. Usually, she bore no control over what her body did as she slept, and many times in the morning did Harry comment on her kicking and screaming. She always apologized profusely, feeling embarrassed to hinder his sleep. Yet, last night he'd told her she slept like an angel. No screams. No restlessness.

Lastly, this dream was far more distinct than anything she'd ever experienced before. For all she knew, it could have been real. She could have been remembering something from a past life. It was even more clear than the dreams before her marriage, which were never confusing and always unrealistic.

Then, as she continued on, the dreams became fuzzy and confusing. Unexplained emotions littered them and caused confusion and flurry to splatter everywhere. Last night, however, everything was clear. While the cause was uncertain, Bridget could gather much more information than before.

She was off to see her father. Voldemort, for some reason, had asked for her to come and see him so she obliged. Of course, he'd made finding him extremely difficult for him and Bridget had passed out, weak and confused in the darkness. She remembered the guilt and feelings of diversity well.

As to why she was seeing the one man she'd promised to stray as far away from as possible, it was unclear. She'd thought she'd broken free of his traps by now and couldn't imagine any reason for her to fall back to them. Especially now, when everything was so right with Harry and yet so ruined at the same time. With the prophecy and all.

"What's your first exam?" Ron asked, sighing as he through his books on the ground. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Charms," she replied, but followed his lead in placing her books away.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry stated. He'd already finished his studying long ago. His confidence was high in this particular subject.

"Potions," Bridget and Ron chimed, slapping hands. They both secretly resented having to do the horrendous subject first, but were happy to have it together. They'd ended up having very similar schedules.

"Oh, fun," Harry muttered.

"I think we've got it with Aiden too," Bridget added, ignoring him.

"Well you just hit the jackpot, then," Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes. For a while now she'd been having feelings on insecurity towards the second Riddle. Her instincts were telling her to stay away from him, avoid trusting him or even seeing him altogether. She'd never voice these allowed, however. She knew that Bridget would immediately come his defense and in turn Harry would take her side. That would cause problems with Ron choosing sides as well.

And even if Harry agreed with her, that would cause even for issues between the newlyweds than already existed. Hermione could never do that to them. So she kept quiet, ignoring her feelings of concern.

"Come on, Hermione, don't be jealous because you don't have any exams with me," Ron quipped, hugging his girlfriend.

"Thank God. You'd be such a distraction."

Harry raised an eyebrow. Bridget giggled. Hermione blushed as a bell chimed for her first exams.

--

Bridget and Ron fell in line with Aiden as they trotted down towards the Dungeons. Ron was fiddling quietly with a stray string on his robes. Everybody's clothes and books were all worn down by now as they should be at the end of the school year. The essence of ending was making most students bittersweet as they began the beginning of what was to be their last tests at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Will you two quit it?" Aiden snapped, annoying with their nervous behavior.

"Stop what?" Bridget questioned, looking up from her hands.

"It's just a test. It's the last test. Chill out."

"Well, I'm sorry we can't all be as good at potions as you are," Ron rejoined, glaring. Aiden laughed, patting the red haired friend on the back.

"Just settle down and you'll be fine," he advised, and then added, "You too, Bee. I don't know what insanities have been going on in your head, but they can't be good."

"Very clever."

"But really, Bridget, how is your head?" Aiden questioned, wrapping an arm around her as he mussed up her hair. "Anymore crazy dreams?"

"Um," Bridget paused, unsure of whether this information was worthy of sharing. Aiden had warned her that her dreams were bad; she didn't want to disappoint him. He wouldn't understand that these dreams were not something she could rid herself of.

"That would be a yes," he assumed, and then turned to Ron. "Did you know?"

"Oh, well," Ron paused, looking uncomfortable. "Yeah."

"How?" Bridget demanded, whipping her head towards him.

"Harry told me," he mumbled. Bridget made a low hissing noise in the back of her throat.

"Damn him."

"Sis, _please_ make an attempt to stop this. It's not good for you," Aiden warned, smiling weakly. Bridget shrugged him off, sighing.

"Let's just focus on our exams, alright?"

--

The day went by slowly, sending all students into a fit of grouchiness by dinner. Bridget had gotten a break after her potions essay and was free until lunch. Unfortunately, she was possibly the only one with that privilege. After lunch she'd had two more exams and than she was due for another one after dinner.

"Astronomy," Hermione noted in response to a question Bridget had not heard.

"Hey, you have that with her, don't you?" Harry questioned, turning towards Bridget. She nodded, not bothering to move any further than that.

"What's wrong with her?" Ron asked, poking her lightly. She looked up at him, sending a fierce glare in his direction.

"I _hate_ exams. We never had to do anything like this before!" she exclaimed, sitting up straight.

"You were home schooled before," Hermione commented.

"It was better that way. I still have four more exams tomorrow!"

"Ha, I only have three," Ron chuckled with glee. He received another glare.

"Hey, it's not that bad," Harry cooed, placing a steady hand on her back. She grumbled something nobody could understand before scooting closer to him and resting her head into his chest. She hadn't seen Harry all day; they had no exams together whatsoever, and it felt nice to be with him for a while.

"Well, anyway, let's move on to more promising subjects," Hermione said. Ron nodded in return, opening his mouth to show a lovely show of mashed pork chops.

"Yeah-"

"Ron!" the group chorused, shielding their eyes.

"Wha?" he asked after swallowing. Bridget shook her head.

"I'm leaving. This is ridiculous."

"What did I do?" he asked once more, eyes alit with confusion. Harry shook his head, laughing. He presumed that had it been any other day they would have all laughed. The stress of exams was wearing on all his friends, though, causing them to be in extremely grumpy moods.

Harry, on the other hand, was unaltered by the exams. His logic was morbid, petty even, but his head had been set his stone since the first day back from his honeymoon.

The prophecy was not candid about anything except the one fact that Harry was to lose his ongoing war with Lord Voldemort. If this was the truth, Harry was sure his life would last not much longer. He had been outliving his time for sixteen years now, after all.

With that in mind Harry decided there was no point. Why should he fuss so much over something that would not affect him at all? Why get a job, pass school, if he was just going to die in vain anyway? Of course, this did not mean he would not try in his final exams. Harry had studied, though not as profoundly as the rest of his classmates, and he had tried his best on each of the tests taken thus far. He would not die completely useless.

"Hey," Harry whispered, grabbing Bridget's arm lightly as she got up to leave with Hermione.

"What?" she asked, turning back towards him. He waited patiently for the anger to fade from her worn features, and then grinned broadly.

"I love you," he paused, giving here a quick kiss, "And you'll do fine on your exams," he promised before releasing her from him grip. She smile weakly, hesitant to leave his warmth before joining Hermione in her leave for Astronomy.

Harry looked after her sadly. He loved her so very much, and as his thoughts returned back to the prophecy he realized he had never quite considered what would happen to her after its fulfillment.

Bridget, thus far, had no promises of death, despite who her father was. She had a life in front of her and important things to worry about. For example, exams. She'd hopefully live a long while after Harry, visiting frequently with Hermione and Ron after his death.

Harry took the time, then, to imagine their lives without him. He'd never done this before, the focus always being on staying alive. Part of him was exited to be thinking about life after school and after him, but the other part was disappointed.

He'd never quite grasped the concept of live going on even if his did not.

Hermione and Ron would be together, obviously. Harry had seen that from his first year in Hogwarts, back when he didn't know of the disastrous fate that met him. Back when Ron and Hermione could barely stand to be in the same room with each other, much less have anything more than friendship towards one another.

Maybe they would have kids. They would probably have kids. Lovely, tall, freckly red-headed, bushy haired kids. Mostly boys. Ron was a Weasley, after all. Nothing less could be expected. Harry hoped they'd have a strong family, like the one he knew Ron to have now, and that they'd love and fuss over their many children in the same way Missus Weasley did.

Bridget. Well, Harry wasn't so sure about Bridget. He hoped that after his death she would move on. He hoped that she'd always love him like she did now, but that she could get over his death. He hoped she could learn to live and not dwell on the past that plagued her. Would always plague her. He hoped for her so many things.

He imagines her with Aiden, treasuring the family she has left. He wants her to keep far from Voldemort, but close to Aiden. He doesn't want her to lose anymore than she already has. He wants Hermione and Ron to welcome her like they welcome him. He wants her to be a part of something great. But mostly, he just wants her to be happy.

He wonders if somebody she'll meet a man she could be happy with. It'd hurt for him, but he'd be dead. He wants the best for her, and he knows that love will make her strong.

So, with that thought in mind, Harry promised himself to speak with her about this. He will make her understand the things he wants, and will wish she will oblige.

"I hate school," Harry heard her exclaim from across the room. She was speaking loudly with Hermione, complaining about something or another.

"Sometimes, I think Bridget just needs to quiet down," Ron laughed from across the table. Harry diverted his attention towards his friend and smiles.

"I know, but if she was quiet she wouldn't be Bridget."

--

"Bridget, come on, stay awake!" Hermione prodded, her voice in a low whisper. Her eyes darted towards the ministry official who had come to giver them the exam.

"I am awake," Bridget hissed groggily, leaning her head against the wall as the official began taking role. There weren't many people in the classroom that evening, so the roll call was quick to end.

"Granger, Hermione?"

"Here," Hermione mumbled, raising her hand. A few more names Bridget didn't recognize were spoken.

"Potter-" the man cut off, staring down in confusion at the list before him. He looked up, clearly scanning the room for the famous boy who lived, even though he was surely not there. That was not what the name on the list said, after all.

"Here," Bridget sighed, slumping into the wall. All eyes turned to stare at her, and thought none was surprised, they were all curious.

"Excuse me?" the man asked once more, eyes making contact with the blonde. He looked her over, skeptical of her last name. He had apparently not heard the news of their marriage and at this state in the war the name "Potter" wrung strong and true over any other. All heads whipped towards the speaker's direction when it was mentioned.

"It's 'Potter, Bridget,' right? That's me," Bridget said slowly, eyebrows raised in annoyance as she lazily pointed a finger towards herself. The man looked confused, but made a mark on his clipboard anyway, eyebrows furrowed dubiously.

"They're married, sir," somebody exclaimed. Bridget looked over to the spokesman only to face the bright blue eyes of Seth. She gulped, already wry of this exam, and turned back to face her hands.

"What?" the official choked. More attention was then drawn to Seth as they all awaited his answer.

"Harry Potter's her husband," he mumbled, and then added, "I thought you should know."

Bridget wasn't sure why anybody needed to know that, but at least the ministry official had enough common knowledge to ignore Seth. He seemed to sense the school drama ringing through the air and decided it was best not get involved. However, Bridget could see the wheels turning in his head, carefully storing the knowledge of Harry Potter's marriage for later use.

"That was awkward," Hermione mumbling, eyeing Bridget carefully. She rolled her eyes.

"Of course Seth would have to do that."

"It would have been awkward anyway," Hermione commented.

"Don't defend him," Bridget ordered, glaring. Hermione laughed.

"Oh, come on. Somebody was going to mention it. How many Potters do you know, exactly?" she asked, still giggling.

"Well, actually, there were quit a few before they all got killed off, but you know, I plan to fix that," Bridget quipped.

"What? You can't bring people back from-OH, gosh, Bee. Wow," Hermione cried, covering her face with her hands. "That was not needed."

"That's what you get for defending the enemy."

"Really?" Hermione questioned, placing a hand on her hip. She was staring at Bridget intensely, looking for something in her face. Finally, after a few moments, Hermione crossed her arms and leaned back, blinking.

"What?"

"I think you're just embarrassed."

_"What?"_

"That's so cute!" Hermione squeed. "You were embarrassed to talk about your love life! Oh, I can't wait to tell Harry and Ron. This is too funny-"

"Hermione?"

"Hm?"

"Shut up."

--

The exam had gone by smoothly, excusing the strange looks the ministry official would shoot Bridget every once in a while. She'd heard him muttering to himself a couple times about nothing in particular, but she was sure she heard the word "Potter" more than once. She hoped this wasn't going to affect her grade somehow.

There was one other incident, still, that had left Bridget wondering as she left alone, late, to return back to her room.

She wasn't sure it was even real, but somehow something had happened causing her to stay after all alone, sending Hermione off without her.

She had been working on her test, staring intently into the stars when there was a sudden flash of bright light, almost blinding her for a few seconds, and then it was gone.

"Hermione! Psst, Hermione! Did you see that?" Bridget whispered across the room.

"See what? Is this cheating?" she muttered back, hair frizzy and face scrunched in concentration.

"The bright light-"

"Mrs. Potter, is that talking I detect?" came the voice of the overbearing ministry official.

"No, sir," Bridget replied, monotone.

"Please continue in silence, then," he ordered, turning his back.

Yet, even as she continued onward Bridget could not get the light of insight out of her mind. It had been a warning sign, she was sure, telling her to beware of upcoming dramatics. Something was going to happen, it told her, and this was not to be ignored.

There was pivotal moments coming, and as Bridget seemed to see into the future she could understand that now, more than ever, her choices would matter. Every decision she made would dictate the way her life would play out, for better or for worse.

Bridget knew the future was held in the stars, but she had never before considered the reality of what that could mean for her. She knew the future was not trivial, and to be handled like fragile china, but part of her yearned for the something she had seen.

She yearned for the end.

As she approached her doorway, seeing it standing lonely a few paces ahead of her, a great wave a familiar illness swept across her body. Her stomach ached and she broke into a sweat. She'd been feeling grumpy and ill all day, but not until now had something short of a fever broke out, shaking up her bones.

She yearned for the end.

The wave pasted, but did not fade as she opened the door. Harry was asleep by now, breathing softly in the comforts of their bed. His books lay closed and deserted on the floor. Not much effort had been put into studying, she could see that.

Her hearted ached for what she had seen in the stars that night.

She yearned for the end.

It wasn't long before Bridget, feeling faint and tired, fell next to Harry. She didn't bother pulling up the blankets, but instead let her body sprawl over the bed, closing her eyes for what would hopefully turn out to be a restful night. A repeat of last night, even. Because, as the dreams became clearer she figured she must be coming to the end of them.

She yearned for the end.

Before she finally dosed off, Bridget thought once more of the bright light. It showed her, briefly, that the end was near. The war was soon to be over, and the moments were building up right before her eyes. A change had taken place, possibly starting with the marriage, and now it was leading up to the end of it all. There would be a winner and a loser of the final battle. It was written in the stars.

Bridget could not feel a bit of sadness for this, though. Somewhere in her subconscious she knew that it was also written in the stars that the loser would be Harry, the man she loved, but that thought was erased for the moment.

Bridget yearned for the end.

She had been ready for it for as long as she could remember. It was time for this war to end once and for all. Nobody what it cost, the war needed to be over. She was tired, wary, of it. Fighting had worn her down and for now she'd just let things go by as the stars wrote them. She was tired of fighting.

Because she yearned for the end.


	93. We Dream in Heist

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

**A/N:** This is so short because it was originally part of chapter 92. So...sorry ;/

* * *

_Bridget stepped out of the darkness, her tangled hair blowing vigorously in the wind. Her eyes sparkled blue, a broad smile on her face. She swept a lock of hair out of her eyes, ignoring the stick feeling of blood. It seemed to be dripping on the dirty ground._

_They were in a meadow, empty and dead, tainted by the black magic that had been residing in it for some time now. For, true as night, Lord Voldemort sat on a large log, long fingers crossed patiently, as he awaited her arrival._

_The ambiance was calm, but not comfortable. There were dancing between returning daughter and stubborn kin. Bridget was not here to follow his plans, but then again she had come here, had she not?_

_Words were spoken between the two, but none Bridget filed away in her brain. He was rattling off now, distracting her. Many of the words he spoke her useless to her. He loved to hear himself speak, so it would appear._

_Near the end of his speech he held his arms out before here, showing her the reason of her arrival._

_Everything changed._

_A swirl of chaos hazed over the meadow. A earsplitting scream echoed, bouncing off the trees. Had it come from her own mouth? Was the sick feeling inside of her really there? Was this really happening._

_Blood trickled towards her like a stream. Morbid thoughts attacked her mind from all angles. A sickening feeling rose in her throat, vile acid touching her tongue._

_"No," she whispered, throat aching from the previous scream._

_Because everything else had faded away. The only thing left lay a mangled body, bleeding, but obviously dead. Not coming back._

_The end had come. This is what it had all been leading up to._

_Harry Potter had fallen._

_He was dead._

_Bridget cried, falling to her knees as she tried to fight off the reality. It had come too soon. It wasn't true. He couldn't be dead._

_"Please, no, bring him back," she cried, weeping as her salty tears mixed with the red blood of her husband. She should have never come here…maybe if she did things differently…_

_A wicked laughter pierced her heart, red eyes blazing in her vision. There was so much red…too much red…_

_The laughter continued as Harry's body faded from vision. Gone forever._

_The End had come._

--

Harry woke up with a jolt.

His first move was a glance out the window; it was still dark. Maybe four in the morning, he assumed. Next, her turned on his side, to see Bridget. She was thrashing on the bed, still in yesterday's clothes. It was as if she was possessed the ways he coughed and spluttered about, crying. She shook widely, moving and turning and screaming.

"Bridget!" he exclaimed, sitting up and trying to wake her up. He tried to still her, help her, but it was no use. It was ten minutes before she finally opened her eyes wide. She took a deep gasp of breath before covering her mouth and leaving the room immediately.

Harry was after her quickly, following her to the bathroom where she sat in front of the toilet. She was throwing up, crying and coughing. In this whole process no tears had actually fallen from her eyes, but she was making the most horrid moaning noises, as if she could cry with no tears.

After she was down throwing up she leaned back, resting her head against the wall. Her hair was dirty and matted, sweat clinging to her skin. She held her face in her hands, still coughing. She was struggling to breath and Harry could do nothing but stand at the doorway of the bathroom, horrorstruck.

The thing was, he had never seen her like this before. He knew what her dreams done to her, the affect that took upon her body and her thoughts, but he'd never seen her physically ill because of them. He'd never seen her so worked up, either. Harry knew Bridget didn't cry. He'd known this before they even became friends. Yet, somehow, this was so much worse. The noises that came out of her mouth were moans of complete and utter disastrous grief. What could she have seen that would have caused this?

Bridget seemed to go on for hours, until the sun rose up above the horizon, just peaking up to say hello. At one point, she went as far as the break a mirror, the pieces shattering to the ground. She clutched one fairly large glass piece in her hand, and Harry winced as he saw the blood drip from her hand. She would not feel it, though, and even if she did know she did not care.

Honestly, Harry was scared. Something inside her was wrong, and the images of her body worried him. He shook as he sat next to her. Their proximity was not close, however. Harry feared what would happen if he reached out and touched her, daring to make contact and shake her out of the hell she was consumed in. She'd have to come out on her own.

Eventually, Bridget stopped her wailing and settled for quiet hiccups, dropping the piece of glass as she staring at the ground with melancholy.

"Harry," she breathed weakly, and though he was right there, Harry knew it was not he she was speaking to. Rather, she was speaking to nobody, stating his name in relevance to whatever she knew that he did not. She waited a few moments longer before finally addressing him.

"You should go back to bed. I'm sorry for waking you," Bridget murmured, her voice raspy and broken.

"No," Harry stated stubbornly. "What's wrong?"

"I've been feeling sick ever since exams started. I'm just nervous and maybe coming down with something," Bridget shrugged halfheartedly.

"That a lie. What did you dream?" Harry asked, but he kept his tone quiet and sincere. He could not bare to cause her any more distress.

Bridget could not bring herself to speak the words to him. How do you tell somebody you saw their own death? Even if it was not real, the images played behind her eyelashes. She wondered, sometimes, if it had been real. Was she hallucinating.

"You have exams today. You need your rest," Bridget cried, standing up and running her hand under the cool water.

"I need you to be okay. And you're obviously not," Harry argued, his face hardening.

"It was a bad dream, alright? And I have been feeling sick."

"It's early and I'm not going to argue with you before the sun is fully in the sky," Harry started, "So I'll go back to bed for a while, but only if you come with me."

"Fine, just let me fix this," Bridget muttered, holding up her hand limply. Harry winced; the cut was deep.

"Let me help you," he said softly, taking his gently in his own hands as he wrapped a bandage around it. Bridget stared sadly at their hands, feeling a little better now that she could feel him touching her. He was alive, for now. He was safe in Hogwarts with her.

"Thank you."

Harry and Bridget crawled into bed, and this time Bridget clung to him, making a low whimpering noise as she closed her eyes. Images if his battered body still flooded her mind, but she convinced herself that as long as she was feeling his warm, as long as he moved his hand through her hair every once in a while, despite its filth, then she would be fine. He would be fine.

This time, as she lay for sleep, her perspective was changed completely. The reality of the possibility of Harry's death rang truer than ever before, and now, Bridget was sure she couldn't handle it. The option was no longer acceptable in the way it was before. There had to be a way to change this.

After all, stars die and change all the time. The future is not set in stone.

This was not the end.


	94. To a Friend

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Breakfast that morning was silent.

Between friends, there are some things that are just known. Unspoken rules and understandings spread far more information than actual words could ever accomplish. Sometimes, there is a point in every friendship where silence much occur, giving each participant in the friendship a chance to "gather his or her bearings."

In this case, it was only half of the group of friends that needed this ominous silence, leaving the other half lost in a wind of confusion. For, the moment the former couple had walked into the room the latter knew something strange had happened in their absence. The female of the latter was particularly confused, for it had not very long since she had last seen the female of the former. It was impossible that in the few hours they'd been away something that tragic could have happened.

Yet, as the former sat down a brain wave was sent out telling all those surrounding to stay quiet. The time was not for talking.

For Hermione Granger, however, this did not mean it was not a time for thinking. While it was obvious that the events that so affected the Potters was not to be shared so publicly, this did not mean she could not examine them carefully and then make her assumptions accordingly.

First off, Harry was dead tired. There were black circles under his eyes making him look like a raccoon that got run over by a truck thrice over. His glasses were hanging off his nose, coming dangerously close to splattering into his eggs. There was not an essence of negative emotion coming off of him, just the deep etch of sleep withdrawal building walls between him and the outside world.

His clothes were lazily put on, too exhausted to care that his robes were on inside out, tie crooked, and shoes on the wrong foot. His pants might have been dirty for days by now, but he took no notice. He did not eat, but stared, eyes only half open, down at his plate, which had not been touched.

This worried Hermione to a great extend, and the conclusions she made her not far off base.

Nothing had happened to Harry, for he held no direct worry over him. Nothing had changed in his life except for the distinct loss of sleep. This meant, plainly, that it was Bridget that something had happened too. Now, knowing Bridget, she did not like to bother others with her problems, especially Harry, whom she believed had enough problems of his own. Therefore, it must have been bad to have caused Harry to wake up for the larger portion of the night.

Somehow, this was entirely more worse than she thought.

With that notion Hermione Granger averted her eyes to the girl in question, who was far more awake than the boy.

Like her husband, there was an evident fatigue about her, but this did not vacillate Hermione. Bridget had permanently engraved shadows upon her eyes; there was no make up that could cover that up. Sleep had never come well to her, and like Harry, most nights were spent wide awake. Also, Bridget had recently acquired an ill look about her, and Harry had whispered his concerns of her heath quietly to his two friends. She made off she excuses like exams and a cold, but it was clear something else was going on.

So, the fact that she looked tired and ill was not something to dwell to deeply on. That aspect about her was not something worthy of examination. It was not different, not out of place.

So, then, what was?

Looking closer, Hermione saw.

--

Bridget could not keep still. She was jittery and shaking, paranoid about everything. Her food looked incredibly unappetizing; she had thrown up again once she woke up. Something crazy was going on with her body, like it was turning on her. Maybe it had taken a leaf out of life's book and decided in order to survive it had to fight against her. There was no real excuse as to why she was feeling like this.

Echoes of last night's dream flashed behind her eyelids; blinking was no longer an option. Her eyes darted about the room, searching for the ones she loved. She had to double, triple, check everybody was alright. They were never still, over and over she must make sure.

Harry; check. Hermione; check. Ron; check. Aidan; check. Even Seth, who she had not spoken to in a long while; check.

The importance of those around her corrupted her mind. Her only focus was other's safety, and even though there was no immediate threat there was always a reason to fear. Any moment somebody could fall down dead, without warning, and in that same concept anything could happen. You could never be sure just how much longer you had with somebody. It was important to make every last moment count.

Or, in Bridget's case, do everything possible to keep them alive. Maybe if she never let one of them out of her site, locked them all up in a broom closet, they'd survive. There had to be a way.

Bridget shook violently, and even though she was so desperately tired, she was so desperately awake. A liveliness similar to a person high off caffeine was in her. She did not feel much like moving, but there was enough energy to keep her awake throughout the day. Adrenaline was getting her by at this point in time, like a drug.

Sick and dizzy, she waited for action. And so, because she wished it, it came to her.

"So," Ron spoke, breaking the tense silence and then watching as the walls rebuilt themselves, reaching higher lengths then before. "Are you going to tell us what happened, or are we going to have to force it out of you?"

Ron smiled smugly, pleasure warming him. For, while a friend must honor another friend's wishes, it was also important for friends to look out for each other. Friends much always be on watch for each other, doing what is in the other's best interest, even if it wasn't exactly what they wanted.

And, there was a time in everybody's life where they had to own up to the truth, speak the deadly words allowed, and hope that hell wouldn't freeze over. Now was that time.

So, when neither Potter would respond Ron spoke again.

"Because, you know, it's really quite rude to keep your friends in the dark like this. We deserve to know just as much as you do. Because we're your friends."

Ron grinned once more, eyeing his friends crazily. Hermione leaned back, crossed her arms, and waited patiently for the response. Ron had done the dirty work for her. Ron was good at this kind of thing.

"Nightmares," Bridget muttered, just to force on the action again.

"Oh?"

"They were bad, okay?" she snapped, burying her head in her hands. At this moment Harry seemed to awake, annoyance evident in his posture.

"That's not the whole truth, is it, though?" he retorted, glaring. Ron and Hermione sighed. It was one of _those_ days.

Every other day or so, it seemed, and especially when one of them was tired, Bridget and Harry would become atrociously annoyed with each other. They would fight all day over the pettiest of things, and in return, they'd take out their anger on whoever happened to be in their way. It was a joyous occasion when the day ended, for it was always a very long one.

"Well, sorry if I don't feel the need to tell everybody every personal aspect of my life," Bridget cried, mimicking Harry's attitude.

"Only the important parts you keep. As if it wouldn't make a difference if you told anybody!" Harry screamed. His eyebrows knit together in acute aggravation, every muscle in his body tense.

"So I've been sick! It's not a big deal. It happens, you know. Throwing up isn't strange, so stop assuming every little detail pertains to the situation!"

"Did you see yourself last night? There was no way it didn't. Something weird is going on!"

"I know!" Bridget shrieked, recoiling back from the argument. "I know."

"Then what?" Harry questioned, his voice reaching a high tone of desperation that should be heard coming out of the mouth of no man. This was ignored, however, as they awaited the anticipated answer. What _was_ going on?

"I don't know."

All eyes laid upon Bridget as she whispered those final three words, ending the argument. They had gotten nowhere, were going nowhere, and were getting no answers. There was really nothing left to say, but still so many questions lingered.

"Can you at least tell me what the dream was about?" Harry asked, finally.

"No," Bridget replied after a moment's thinking. The dilemma still plagued her thoughts as she berated herself from keeping secrets. Yet, she could not bring herself to tell Harry the truth that had never been spoken. Some things are just better left unsaid, and this dream was one of them.

However, Ron did not seem to agree. He waited patiently for Bridget to catch his gaze and then sent her a simple message.

She was to tell him of her nightmares because he was her best friend, there for her when all else failed, and would understand, despite the consequences.

She was to tell him, because simply, there was nobody else to tell. Even Aiden could not help her with this, for he would never understand the horrific loss she faced. Love this strong could not be lost, would not die, and only Ron could comprehend this. Ron saw and knew and understood, far more than Harry even, what Bridget had done to get this far. One wrong word could break it all.

Bridget, above all, could not risk this.

"You know," Hermione started, clearing her throat. "You should got see Madame Pomphrey."

"What?" Bridget coughed, surprised by this suggestion.

"If you've been getting sick," Hermione paused, choosing her words carefully, "even if it is just a cold or nerves," once more she froze, taking the moment to let Bridget know nobody believed her bullshit, "she can give you something for that. You wouldn't have to throw up anymore, at least."

"Oh."

"She's right, you know," Ron said, nodding.

"Maybe I will," Bridget said, wondering what else the Madame could help her with.

Maybe she _could_ get some answers, after all.

--

Ron was famished.

The red haired boy had not eaten since breakfast and in the time between then and now had taken _two _exams. This equaled a very unhappy Gryffindor, as one can only expect. All he really wanted to do was get to lunch, eat, and enjoy a pleasant conversation with his friends.

However, Ron had duties to fulfill.

Ron had thought he'd indicted very clearly earlier that day that he wished to speak with Bridget, alone, and that he wanted the truth. With exams clouding everybody's brain it was hard to get Bridget alone, even for a second. It was incredibly important, however, to reach her as soon as possible, for one could never know which direction Bridget was leaning towards. Her decision making process was terribly faulted; her rash personality lead her towards making many mistakes. It was Ron's job to slow her down and understand.

So, with his best friends in mind Ron jogged off to catch her before anybody else is, skipping his desired meal, and finding the truth of her nightmares.

"Bridget!" he called, quickening his steps. She snapped her head up, searching the hallways before her eyes landed on him. A look of anxiousness fell upon her face as she glanced nervously towards the person she was in conversation with. She mumbled something softly before striding over, opening her mouth to protest.

"Stop."

"What?"

"Come with me," Ron stated, grabbing her arm and dragging her off a dark corridor.

"You aren't going to leave me down here, are you? Hogwarts it tragically perfect for rape and abuse with all these empty hallways. I hope you're not intending to take advantage of me here," Bridget grinned, shoving Ron playfully. He ignored her, figuring it was best to let her ramble on. She could get it all out now before getting down to business. Her satire pleased nobody in these situations, but Ron had learned it was best to just let her finish before attempting anything important.

"Are you done?" he snapped, letting go of her.

"If I say no will you let me continue?" Bridget whimpered, shrugging into herself.

"Absolutely not," Ron proclaimed, crossing his arms. "You knew this was coming."

"But, really, during lunch? Won't they notice we're gone. Assumptions could be made. We do both have significant others, you know."

"Our relationship is purely platonic."

"Sure. Whatever you say."

"Whatever I say? Good, then. I say you tell me about your nightmare last night," Ron demanded, placing a hand on her shoulder. She licked her lips, shaking hair into her eyes to hide the emotion shining through them. Ron waited patiently, knowing too well that the words would not come easy. He was not to push too hard, less he push her away.

"It's hard," she exclaimed, her voice soft like velvet, a whisper among the old walls of the castle.

"I know," Ron agreed, exhaling. Subtle expectancy bubbled up inside of him, and in the back of his mind he wondered if he wanted to know what had been shown to her that night. There was a slight idea that maybe the truth behind the nightmares was not meant to be shown beyond the mind of the girl.

"It had been a weird night already," Bridget started, her head falling in her hands. Her blonde locks circled about her face as she tried to camouflage herself into the walls. Unfortunately, yellow and grey did not mix well, and there was no mask to cover her.

"How so?" Ron questioned, pressing her to continue.

"Astronomy had been strange, not just with the ministry official going on about my last names."

"Even married you can't stay subtle, can you?" Ron quipped against his better judgment. Bridget cracked a smile, but it quickly turned into a cough. She clutched her stomach tightly, a pained looking coming upon her face.

"Sorry," she choked. "I really have been sick."

"It's okay."

"Anyway, I had just been feeling weird all night and even asleep…"

"You can trust me," Ron purred softly.

"I dreamt he died," Bridget blurted, falling to her knees.

"Who?" Ron asked, though he was sure he already knew.

"Harry," she whispered, doubling over, the thought causing her physical pain. The words tasted like poison on her lips, each syllable tainting her tongue and burning her esophagus.

Ron winced, horrified to see the ghastly expression etched into her face. What had become of them that it had come down to this? Her love was strong, her desire uncontainable, and her need unquenched. The absolute idea of her husband's death tortured her every minute of every day, a secret that ate away at her soul until nothing else was left but darkness. An ulcer was being creating inside of her, as truth ate her from the inside out. She'd break and Ron knew it. His life, the life of his friend, was so much more important to her than even her own life.

There was no way around it. Without Harry, life as she knew it would be over. It was more than just the world coming to pieces, overthrown by Lord Voldemort. It was more than losing a love, something people could rarely ever get over. It was lose of a part of her. If Harry were to ever leave her she'd split down the middle, cracked as she broke at the seams. Explosives would erupt inside of her, a love so powerful dying in the worst way possible.

"What are we going to do?" she cried, her voice echoing off the walls. She was screaming, coming close to the chaos she'd been in last night. "It's not as if we can just tell him"

"Bridget, look, it's not as if it's true-"

"It is. They've been so different and now I finally know why. It's…I can't live like this, Ron."

"Go see Madame Pomphrey. Tonight, after everybody has gone asleep. Get a dreamless sleep potion or _something."_

Bridget nodded, throwing herself upon Ron. Her wrapped his arms around her, clinging to the embrace as he tried his best to keep her together. Worry flowed through him, his stomach aching far worse than before.

But Ron was no longer hungry.


	95. Stolen Kiss

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

**A/N: **This chapter is also short, it originally being part of chapter 94. But once again, I made the chapters two. Or perhaps I'm just very enxious to reach 100

* * *

"Good news, Mrs. Potter!" Madame Pomphrey squeaked, grinning broadly in the moonlight. The windows of the Hospital Wing her wide open, streams of white light flooding the dim room. Few candles were lit this hour, for it was not often the room was visited this close to curfew.

Several students were placed randomly about the room, their curtains drawn around beds as night fells. Privacy was a key element of hospitals after all.

"Yes?" Bridget murmured, her throat tightening. She was sitting on a bed near the door, and had been waiting patiently as Madame Pomphrey ran a few tests and then went to go check the answers. It had been quite humiliation, because neither of them knew what was wrong so all tests were performed.

"These nightmares are not from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," she stated, widening her smile. Bridget didn't know that was possible, and a bitter feeling erupted as she continued. "There is nothing menacing about your nightmares, or the fact that you've been getting sick."

"Then why…?" Bridget trailed off, feeling slight relief before anticipation. This was just a calm before the storm. There had to be more to this than met the eye.

"I am not sure as to why your nightmares seem to be changing. Each person it different, special in his or her own way. It is impossible to tell, in cases such as these, what the true purposes behind the changes are.

"Still, I can make some guesses. It is probably simply hormones. Your body is going through some changes right now."

"Excuse me?" Bridget retorted, scowling. Madame Pomphrey chuckled airily, as if she knew some strange secret she was just dying to tell, and yet was finding pleasure in keeping it a secret. This was it. This was the moment when the "but" would come in, explaining what exactly was causing destruction this time.

"Mrs. Potter, I am very proud to tell you that you're pregnant."

"What?"

"With twins. A boy and girl."

"Oh god."

The world was rushing faster and faster, breathing becoming difficult along with swallowing and other bodily functions. There was no way…How did this happen? Was she really that stupid to let that small little detail of protection to slip past her mind?

"Mrs. Potter?"

Madame Pomphrey was ignored as Bridget struggled to regain her voice. Her stomach seemed to be more active than usual, two little fetuses living inside of her. Two little hearts beating, hopefully slower than hers.

"I have to go," Bridget choked out, jumping up and walking swiftly out of the room.

Harry was going to kill her. Slowly and painfully he was going to beat her until he was charge for triple homicide because she was now three people. She could not tell him about this. There had to be a way around it. A potion to reverse this catastrophic mistake. Muggles had the morning after pill; couldn't wizards have the month after pill?

Bridget turned on her heel, rushing back towards the hospital wing.

"Is there a way to reverse this?" she called, throwing open the doors. Madame Pomphrey smiled, turning around.

"Now, why on earth would you want to do that?"

"Oh, uh,"

"Don't worry. It'll all work out," she cooed, and then waved Bridget off, obviously done with the situation.

Bridget, on the other hand, was in no way done with the situation. Her brain was reeling a million miles a minute, searching from some solution. It had to be right in front of her, after all, right under her nose. She looked around, hunting for the answer. This could not be happening. Madame Pomphrey was wrong, this was a dream, a lie, a joke. Was it April Fools yet? Dammit!

"Bridget?" a voice called from the darkness before a figure stepped out of the shadows.

Bridget turned her head in a flurry, her eyes adjusting as she tried to focus on anything other than this.

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?" the male voice asked, coming closer. Her slowly brought his hand towards her face, gently touching her cheek with his palm. Bridget gulped, debating her answer.

"Yes," turned out to be what she finally decided.

"Look, I just wanted to," the boy froze, stepping back a few feet as if remembering some unspoken rule about their proximity. Bridget had not stopped him tonight, though. There were other things on her mind.

"Apologize?" she suggested, clinging to the conversation. It proved to be a wondrous distraction. Like always.

"Yeah," he mumbled, wringing his hands together.

"It's okay, Seth," Bridget sighed, leaning against the wall. She couldn't remember the last time they'd spoken. Had it really been the argument from Harry's bed? Was it possible that that had happened in this lifetime? It felt like years ago, before she was pregnant. Before there was life.

"Are you sure?" Seth pleaded, his blue eyes pooling up. "The school years ending and I just…hoped we could end things on a good note, I suppose."

"I'm sure," Bridget sighed, embracing him in a hug. She felt normal with him, and that was probably why they'd gone out in the first place. With Seth she wasn't special. She wasn't Voldemort's daughter, or Harry's wife, or the mother of two unborn children. She was just Bridget, dealing with normal teenage things. Like exams and homework and waking up on time.

"And you'll tell Harry too? I know he gets-"

"I will," Bridget interjected, trying desperately to divert the conversation from that particular topic. She wrapped an arm around her stomach, wondering if she looked any fatter yet. How soon did that happen, anyway?

In all honestly, Bridget didn't know a thing about being pregnant, or a parent. What if she messed things up? She was good at that, after all, and would kill herself if she did anything to hurt those babies. She was so afraid of doing something wrong, ruining their lives, or Harry's. Sometimes she wondered if she already hadn't already.

"Seth, do I look any fatter?"

"What?" Seth chuckled, furrowing his brow. "Don't tell me your becoming one of those girls always concerned about her weight."

"No, no," Bridget defended. "Please just answer the question."

"No, Bridget," Seth said slowly, her name rolling off his tongue. He had a concerned look on his face, curiosity written clearly upon his features. "You look normal. Sick and skinny."

Bridget sighed, a small smile making its appearing. "Good."

"What's up?" Seth asked, after a moment.

"Nothing, I just…"

Seth stepped closer, intensity heating up in his eyes. Emotions danced around Bridget, her pregnancy ringing truer and louder. But Seth was getting closer and she couldn't control herself, what was happening, her mouth and words and thoughts. Life was falling to pieces before her, everything ruined.

Nothing was the way it was supposed to be.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," Bridget whispered into his ear. Her warm breath heated his neck, his face becoming red. "I didn't mean to use you or anything like that."

"I know. You were just…just hurt," Seth responded, understanding. "We were all just hurt."

Bridget nodded in agreement, wondering who else she would hurt in the next moments of her life.

Something in her stomach rumbled, adrenaline being sent throughout her body. Bridget sighed, looking down at her feet. Oh, the irony.

Seth brought her chin up with his finger, staring blue on blue.

So Bridget kissed him.


	96. You Can Do Better Than Me

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

For the first time since Bridget could remember she dreaded returning to Harry. She hoped with all her might that he would be asleep at this hour, but hadn't she told him where she was going? It was a mistake on her part, not sneaking out, and now he was to expect the results of her expedition. She just hated feeling like she couldn't tell him things.

The moment she walked in the room Harry would know something was wrong. It was not something you could hide, being pregnant, and in more ways than one. There was no way she could tell him, though. Bridget was too afraid of his reaction, knowing him well enough to know he'd be furious with her.

That is, if he still talked to her after she told him about the kiss with Seth.

To Bridget, that matter was simple. It was clear to both parties what the kiss meant-nothing. It was a good-bye kiss, a closer kiss, a kiss that lasted a second and would never amount to the many she shared with her husband. Bridget felt bad about Seth and about the way things ended. They'd both made mistakes, especially her, and yet it was Seth with the broken heart.

Besides, it was bland in comparison to being pregnant.

Being pregnant was kind of like being in a constant dangerous situation. All those things thought important before are forgotten and no longer important with the knew knowledge somebody's dying, or in that case, being born.

Bridget half hoped it _had_ been Voldemort sending her those dreams just as long as they were false and she didn't have two babies living inside of her.

Slowly, Bridget closed her eyes and opened the door of her room, muttering the password. She first opened her eyes to the bed, hoping to see Harry asleep in it.

"Damn," she muttered, seeing that it was empty. That meant he was sitting in the armchair, waiting.

"Bridget?" he called from his expected place across the room. Bridget sighed, walking over slowly to sit on the chair across from him. She did not reply, instead looking up and staring at him hopelessly, sensing the obvious sense of solemn in the room.

"Why are you still up?" she sighed, burying her face in her hands.

"I wanted to know what Madame Pomphrey said," Harry said, laughing quietly as if it were obvious. "I knew I should have come with you."

"It would have done no good," Bridget lied, secretly thankful she'd at least told him to not come with her. She knew she wasn't going to like the information. "It's just stress from exams, I guess. Madame Pomphrey doesn't know."

"Are you sure?" Harry inquired, noting the way Bridget's voice faltered in fear. Bridget struggled to stop herself from wincing. Why did he have to know so much about her? Why could he tell exactly when she was hiding something from him?

"Why wouldn't I be?" Bridget choked out, smiling encouragingly. She hated having to lie to him, but she couldn't tell him the truth. She couldn't handle his reactions or where her nightmares would lead her without him. She couldn't live without him.

Harry didn't respond and they both sat in silence, trying not to the about all the things they wanted to say. Bridget was suffocating, a sick feeling coming over her. Her hand was resting gently on her stomach, and she wondered if she could pull it off casually.

There was no casual way to tell somebody they were going to be a dad, though. There was no way around it, no way to reverse it, no other choice but this. He'd notice eventually, even if she did try and hide it. Besides, the silence of deceit was consuming her, clouding her mind which had never truly been clear in the first place.

"I have to talk to you."

"There's something I have to tell you."

They both chorused at the same time, eyes shooting up to look at each other. Harry's hair was messier than usual, standing up at all angles from his hands running through it continuously. He was nervous, Bridget could tell. She was positive he noticed that she was feeling the same way as him. What had Harry to be nervous about, though? Boys could not become pregnant. There was nothing worse than that.

"You first," she offered with that thought in mind. Harry frowned, searching her carefully to try and figure out the puzzle. Bridget looked down once more, waiting patiently for him to start.

"The year's almost over," Harry commented, swallowing loudly.

"Yes, Harry, I know. Despite popular belief, I do pay attention to the goings on here," Bridget snapped, not meaning to sound to snide. She couldn't help her bad attitude, though. Her mind could not slow down for petty notions such as the date.

"Voldemort will not wait much longer," Harry retorted back, glaring angrily. "He's gone through a whole year without so much as a single attack directly against me," Harry paused, his brow furrowed in thought as he chose his next words carefully. "He's been too distracted with you, I suppose, but that won't last much longer."

"What are you trying to say?" Bridget whispered, her throat tightening up. Her lungs constricted, vocal cords shut off as the answer entered the room like poison, shutting all that was left of her down.

"My days here are limited."

Images of Harry lying, lifeless, in the meadow, brown blades of grass blowing in the wind surrounding him. It played like a movie in her mind as her eyes glazed over. Bile was climbing up her throat and Bridget clutched tightly to the edge of her seat, willing herself not to throw up.

"Please don't say that," she tried to say, but it came out as nothing more than a light croak. Her mouth was dry, the back of her throat aching and unable to project sound.

Harry quickly stood, grabbing her hands and yanking them away from the seat. She dug her nails into his palm as he helped her stand, stating straight into her eyes. He was determined not to break down, for in order to do this he had to be strong. He'd played the conversation out in his head for days now and had almost come to terms with the reality of the situation.

Harry was going to die, and up until now he'd ignored it. He'd fought it viciously, trying to find loopholes, some way out. It was too late, though, and there was no way out. So the only thing left to do was accept it and Harry had bravely fought his was through the turmoil his heart when through leaving him almost indifferent to it. Everybody died, did they not?

"I love you," he told her, his voice low and husky. Bridget licked her lips, helpless as she embraced him, burying her face in his chest.

"I love you too," she mumbled, breathing his scent in carefully.

"I only want what is best for you. I want you to be happy and I want to help you," Harry rambled, letting her go. She frowned up at him and he smiled, brushing a lock of blonde behind her ear. He gazed at her steadily before bringing his lips down in a kiss, his hand resting softly on her cheek.

"I don't want you to go. Ever," Bridget murmured, breaking away. Harry groaned, standing up tall, but not letting his hand part from her cheek. This was the part he was not looking forward to. Trying to explain exactly how he felt, even after all the practicing, was not ever going to be easy.

Harry sighed, testing the waters. He watched her carefully, examining the distress in her features.

"It can't be like this," Harry stated before breaking apart, his hands dropping to his sides. He would not falter in his decisions, would not make things less drastic for her.

"Like what?"

"When I'm- I mean…After the final battle," Harry paused, running a hand through his hair. "You have to be strong."

"_I_ have to be strong? I can't do that without you, don't you get that?" Bridget cried, her breathing becoming raspy once more. Harry placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

"You knew this was going to happen. You knew it was going to come to this.

"I didn't think-" Bridget stopped, shaking her head. There were no excuses. Harry was right; she knew about the prophecy long before they'd even gotten together.

"There are things I want you to do when it's all over," Harry said, sighing.

"No!" Bridget exclaimed. "It can't just be over. I won't let it."

Harry scowled, glaring. He'd been afraid of this. She was going to be stubborn and she wasn't going to listen to him. Annoyance etched its way into his heart and it gave him strength. He'd have to be firm with her and convince her to listen to him before he actually told her what he wanted to say.

"Stop," Harry demanded, crossing his arms. "We've been dancing around this for months now. We've all ignored it, thought we could change it, pretended it didn't happen. And I'm done.

"I've accepted the fact that the prophecy will play out and I know it's going to be hell, especially for you, Hermione, and Ron. Not the mention the rest of the wizarding word. Once I'm gone we've lost. The first prophecy was clear as well; it's over," Harry paused, his voice becoming gentle as he continued, trying to ignore Bridget's light whimpers of depression.

"But it doesn't have to be."

"I don't know what you're saying," she worded, confusion written on her face. She slumped back down into her chair, breathing deeply as she tried to gain some sort of composure.

"You need to keep fighting," Harry ordered. "If anybody can beat him you can. You're his daughter and you're stronger than this. You need to be strong."

Harry did not waver as he said this. He stood tall, looking down upon his silent wife.

"So you want me to kill Voldemort?" Bridget snorted, feeling like a child. She _was_ a child. She certainly couldn't kill her own father.

Harry just nodded.

"Well, yeah, I'll get right on that!" she retorted.

"Thank you," Harry laughed, taking her sarcasm as a yes. She would get used to the idea, after all. "But that's not all."

"What else is there?" Bridget muttered, closing her eyes and bracing herself for the next task. There was no way to properly explain the feeling you get when the one you love is telling you the things he wants done after his death.

"After he's dead I want you to move on."

"What?"

"I don't want you to live in unhappiness. I don't want you to live a life like this forever."

"But don't you get it?" Bridget shouted. "I want this forever! That's why I married you! I want this forever!"

Harry closed his eyes in pain before dropping to his knees before Bridget. She stared at him with disbelief, refusing to accept the words coming out of his mouth.

"When Voldemort is dead it will _really_ be over. I want you to be able to progress in life and not dwell on the part of it that is now. Move on to a new phase."

"Phase?" Bridget questioned. "You think this is phase? It's not a phase!" she shrieked loudly. "I can't just forget this!"

"I'm not asking you to!" Harry yelled. "Do not forget me," he paused, searching for the right words. "But that doesn't mean you can't find a new life, meet new people."

"I don't want a new life or new people. I want this. I want you," Bridget whispered, taking Harry's hand. He quickly pulled it away, avoiding her penetrating gaze.

"Visit Ron and Hermione often. Hold on to Aiden because he's your family, even if his temper fuels hate. And if you meet somebody-"

"I will never love anybody like I love you," Bridget interrupted, struggling to find her breathe. Her voice was weak, emotions strained from the night's events, but it held so much intensity that Harry knew he would never doubt that.

"That doesn't mean you can't ever be with another. It's okay."

Bridget did not respond to this, deciding to end the conversation. She didn't want to hear anymore of it, anyhow. Harry was so accepting of this and Bridget couldn't understand how. Then again, it wasn't as if he had to ever live without himself.

"What did you want to tell me?"

Bridget froze, fear closing up her esophagus. There was no way she could tell him now.

Harry expected her to move on, to leave him behind along with this "phase" of her life. Harry wanted her to fight Voldemort and then live a happy life that didn't involve wars or unhappiness.

She couldn't tell him that was all impossible because now he wasn't just leaving her behind. He was leaving his kids too.

Bridget had never considered this. She hadn't thought much past telling Harry about her pregnancy; she hadn't thought about how the twins probably wouldn't ever live to see their father.

Bridget could not tell Harry about them, especially not after his speech. He'd be ridden with guilt and while it may cause him to fight harder for his life Bridget knew it would make him unhappy. Even after only a few hours of knowing Bridget recognized the strange feeling of unease that settled in her stomach.

It was the nerve-racking thought that being pregnant not only meant that her life would be changed forever, but it also opened up the possibility of being a bad parent, a bad family, a horrible role model. It brought in the self-doubting thoughts that told Bridget she couldn't do it. She'd ruin their lives.

Just like Voldemort had ruined hers.

"Bee?" Harry prodded, shoving her lightly. A weak grin was on his face as he awaited the news she had promised him.

"I kissed Seth."

Bridget had not meant to say that. She hadn't ever planned on telling Harry about that, not because it was something to hide, but because she did not deem it important enough to bring up in conversation.

It was better than being pregnant, though, and she had to tell Harry something.

"What the hell?" Harry asked, becoming angry. Bridget sighed, hating that she had dug herself into another mess.

"It mean nothing!" she defended quickly, eyes alit with worry. "It just happened now. He was just there."

"So you kiss anybody who's 'just there?" Harry questioned, glaring. Bridget sighed, shaking her head.

"No."

"Exactly."

"Look, Harry, I was coming back from the hospital wing and I was confused and…" Bridget trailed off, racking her brain for a good excuse. The truth was she was confused and pregnant, but Harry could not know that part. He could never know.

"And?" Harry demanded, crossing his arms. "I'm not seeing any decent excuses."

"He apologized for everything, and he said to tell you sorry too-"

"Great for him," Harry muttered furiously.

"And I felt bad because I know everything that happened between all-all the shit that went down-was my fault," Bridget admitted.

"Don't blame yourself like that," Harry growled.

"You were absentee. You don't know what it was like. The way I used him," Bridget whispered, begging him with her eyes to forgive her. The mention of his absence in her life seemed to strike a nerve somewhere, though, and his face softened a bit.

"He knew it too. That I never loved him like I love you. It's always been you, Harry. _Don't you get that?"_ Bridget continued.

"Do you think kissing him would prove any of that? Don't you think we both have the wrong idea now?"

"We both know what the kiss meant. It was short and purely platonic. A good-bye. It _is_ the end of the year."

"Fine," Harry sighed after thinking for a moment. He never had doubted that she'd done anything to hurt him, like cheating, but that did not erase the anger and jealously.

"Are we okay?" Bridget asked.

"Yeah," Harry muttered. Then he got up and walked over to the bed before slipping in and turning on his side without speaking.

Bridget was not ready to sleep, though. An idea had brought itself upon her without warning and now the wheels in her head were turning.

The past twenty-four hours had been hell for her. Between nightmares, arguments, and pregnancies Bridget was more than ready to leave Hogwarts and its drama behind. Of course, this was not to assume that the drama wouldn't follow her to wherever she was going.

Bridget hadn't thought about it much, but she supposed she'd be living with Harry at the Weasley's until they found other arrangements-jobs, houses, etc.

Bridget had far better plans, though.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" he mumbled, half asleep.

"Let's go on vacation."

"What?" he exclaimed, sitting up. Bridget grinned despite herself.

"You, me, Ron, Hermione, and Aiden should just leave for a good whole week," Bridget suggested.

"We can't," Harry argued.

"And why not? We're out of school tomorrow and it isn't like you were planning to do anything, were you?"

"But Voldemort-"

"Is surprisingly self-sufficient. Nothing much can change in a week, Harry. We deserve a break," Bridget sighed.

"It's a bad idea."

Bridget raised an eyebrow, hands on hips as she gave Harry a pointed look.

"Fine. Let's go."


	97. Blood Red Summer

**Disclaimer: Potterverse belongs to Rowling**

* * *

The Weasley House was exactly like Bridget remembered it, exactly how she had always pictured it in her mind.

She'd been there once before, but for somber reasons and her fear had kept her from seeing the true wonders of it. While it was painfully obvious the Weasley's had money troubles, Bridget could choose their home over a spacious castle any day. It was quaint and homey and everything Bridget imagined a family should be.

For the week she had spent there she'd already fell in love with it, immensely thankful for the family's openness to all friends and situations. Bridget had also met a lovely group of people, all sharing the same red hair of her best friend.

Ever since the war had started people were constantly in and out of The Burrow, and each person stayed around for at least one meal. Because of this, Bridget had met most of the order after a week, including Remus Lupin, Alaster Moody, Tonks, Kingsley, and the rest of the Weasley family.

For the first time in her leaf Bridget ate family meals, conversing happily with her friends. She made a point of sitting next to somebody different every evening.

There was no dislike in the house, and while Voldemort was mentioned often it was never in connection to Bridget. No wary eyes turned to her, suspiciously keeping track of the mysterious blonde.

For the first time in her life Bridget felt as if she was on the right side. While it was not official yet, she was part of the order, which was more like a family than the Death Eaters could ever be.

The connections she'd made in just a week in The Burrow would last a lifetime, always keeping a warm spot in Bridget's heart. So far she'd been subjected to countless pranks by Fred and George, who immediately appreciated her sense of humor and fearlessness. She'd even managed an attempt prank back, which failed, but made her feel proud of herself anyway. She'd earned bear hug for that.

Now was their last supper together, however. Tomorrow morning Ron, Hermione, Harry, Bridget, and even Aiden-he'd arrived yesterday afternoon-would be heading off to America, their last chance to get away. It would be their last vacation together, last moments where they would all be living under the same roof. After the week they would spend they all knew what they were facing.

Up until now it had felt like a casual summer break, but as their last night together carried on everybody knew that this wasn't just any other summer. This was the summer to began the rest of their lives, however short or long they may be.

"I remember the first time I came here," Bridget cooed, giggling drunkenly into her brothers shoulder. "I was an idiot."

"And you aren't now?" Ron teased from across the table. Surrounding diners cackled, Aiden nudging Bridget lightly.

"So what exactly did you do your first visit here?" Aiden questioned.

"Well," Bridget laughed, and then closed her mouth mid-sentence. Her eyebrows crinkled in thought, remembering back to that first day.

She'd come in afraid, but with two of her closest friends along her side. Two of her closest friends she would never see again. Their death had shaken Bridget out of her skin, and now she couldn't remember the girl she was before.

She was surprised to find she missed her. While Bridget had hated herself for falling into the traps of Voldemort time and time again, and while she loved the life she'd created for herself away from her father, she missed the innocence. That wasn't to say she was innocent then, but there wasn't anything to lose back then. Back then, Bridget loved little and therefore lost little. So much more was at stake now.

Bridget missed when things were easy.

"Bee, sis, are you okay?"

"Yes," Bridget said slowly. "This year was just a hard year."

Aiden feigned ignorance. "They say you have to hit rock bottom before you can rise up again."

"That's the thing," Bridget started, glancing briefly at Harry, who was engaged in an animated conversation with Bill Weasley. "I don't think I've reached it yet."

Ron did not fail to notice the way her eyes lingered, and he jumped at the opportunity to change the conversation and distract her.

"Have you seen Hermione anywhere?" he blurted. Bridget laughed, covering her mouth as she stifled a snicker.

"Are you lost without her?"

"Hey, be nice," Ron defended, his mouth open as he let the world view its contents for the hundredth time.

"Well, she's upstairs freaking out over tomorrow. I told her since it was my idea I'd plan it, but I guess she doesn't trust my organizational skills."

"I wonder why," Aiden retorted offhandedly. Bridget frowned, punching him in the arm. He sat unaffected.

"Well I'm going to go get her. Mum is about ready to have a cow now that we're leaving. I think she wants us all together 'one last time," Ron explained, getting up.

"You do that Ron. Anything to please your 'mum," Bridget coughed, snickering in Aiden's direction. Her eyes were alit with happiness, the pleasant atmosphere like alcohol in her brain.

"You're sick," Aiden ribbed.

"You know Ron isn't just going up there for his mum. I'm pretty sure he has a few wants himself."

"You would know," Aiden scoffed, turning his eyes in the direction of Harry once more. "Have you been a bunny, little sis?"

Bridget choked on pumpkin juice, clumsily spitting half of the liquid into her cup. In truth, Bridget hadn't. She was pregnant and there was no way she wanted her brain to even go in that direction anymore. Besides, it was getting harder and harder to keep secrets from Harry. It was only pure luck that Missus Weasley refused to let them sleep in the same room. Bridget had retreated to the girls' area of the house with Ginny and Hermione. It took loads of convincing to let Fleur stay with Bill and they were years older than Bridget was.

"Yeah, um, downright animals," Bridget muttered, her face darkening a shade. Aiden's eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch, suspicion playing across his features.

"Whatever," he laughed, nervously looking around the table once more. "So tell me more about your plans for the next week."

Bridget grinned broadly, jumping in on the safe subject. Thankfully, with so many things going on, it was becoming increasingly easy to divert the attention from things she no longer wished to talk about. Or even think about.

"California!" she hissed, glowing with excitement. "And I'm damn exited."

"Oh, is this lovely place not enough for you?" Aiden questioned, waving his arm about for effect. Bridget shook her head vigorously.

"No, of course I love it here. I'm just ready to get out of London and into a place where it actually gets warm during the summer. I'm so tired of being cold," Bridget explained, laughing. Yet, as she finished her sentence her voice became soft, signs of deeper meaning becoming evident in her tone. Aiden nodded understandingly, giving her a hug.

"Ronald Weasley!" came the screeching voice of Missus Weasley. "You and Hermione better me down here in-"

"Mum, shut up. We're here," Ron grumbled, brooding as he fell into a cough. Missus Weasley smiled, all thoughts of scolding forgotten as she motioned for the rest of the table to follow Ron's lead and have a seat by the fire in the living room.

"Come on everybody. This is our last night all together and I find it appropriate to prolong it!"

Bridget glanced at Aiden, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly as she jumped up to go have a seat at Hermione's feet. She was pulled back, however, by a sturdy arm snaking around her waste.

"Evening," the low voice whispered in her ear, warm breathe tickling her neck as a shiver went down her spine. A husky chuckle erupted from behind her. Bridget scowled.

"Shove off," she retorted, swiping Harry's glasses and bounding off to hide behind Fred.

"Oh, nice one," he snickered, watching gleefully as Harry found himself blind in the crowd.

"Oh yeah," George added, snagging the glasses from her hands and placing them joyously on his nose.

"OY! Who are you?" Fred exclaimed in mock surprise.

"Morge Keasley at your service!"

"Fred! George! Stop fooling around and take those off," Missus Weasley scolded before turning her attention to Harry. "Are you alright dear?" she worried, returning him his glasses. Harry grimaced, cleaning them briefly before returning them to their proper place.

"What a _nerd,"_ Bridget hissed in the twins' ears. Harry glowered, taking a seat on the floor next to her. She stuck out her tongue.

"Now, now," Missus Weasley started, tearing up a little. Ron rolled his eyes from across the room.

"Oh Damn, this is going to take a while isn't it?"

"Be nice," Hermione hissed back, but a smile played perfectly on her face as well. They all were too keyed up to pay attention, despite the fact that nostalgia was creeping up on the room, ready to pounce.

"I remember when I first met you all-back when you were just first years. I'm very proud of the three of you. You've been through so much; it's a miracle you're alive," Missus Weasley gushed, addressing the original golden trio in all their glory. They all blushed red at the same, struggling to stifle the grins on their faces.

"Mum," Ron complained.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she snapped, her voice tight, "But this is the last time we'll all be together as a family. Tomorrow you're heading off the California and then you'll busy yourselves with jobs and the issue of money and houses-" she paused, choking down a sob. "I just want you to know you are always welcome back here."

"Thank you, Missus Weasley," Harry said, nodding politely. "For everything. The Burrow is more of a home than Private Drive ever was."

"Oh Harry!" she cried, engulfing the boy in a hug. The conversation continued like this, the Golden Trio reliving all the memories of their past. Somehow the bad ones were forgotten, though, leaving the jokes, riveting adventures, and tales of how they met.

Bridget listened for a while before engaging herself in conversation with Fred, George, and her brother.

"Feeling lonely?" George teased.

"No!" she defended, crossing her arms. "It's just, they've been through a lot together and I don't want to impose."

"I'm sure they wouldn't think of it that way," Aiden consoled. Bridget shrugged.

"I know. But if the six other years at Hogwarts they lived through were anything like the one I just had they deserve to remember it like this. And besides, who would want to interrupt Ron's endowed story telling!" she quipped, giggling as she flashed her teeth.

"It's all true, you know," Fred informed them.

"For once," George added with a snort.

"I don't doubt it. I mean, giant chess?"

The quartet laughed, genuinely happy. It was good for them to happy, though, before life kicked in again and forced them out of their state of hiding.

"Oh my! It's late and you all have to leave early tomorrow," Missus Weasley babbled. Groans chorused throughout the room, but Bridget stood up without complaining.

"They have to wake up early. Hermione will have me up before dawn, freaking out over something or another," Bridget muttered, rolling her eyes as she sauntered up the stairs.

"To your appropriate rooms, please!" the red-headed mother called. Some more groans were heard from downstairs.

"Please, mum, just a little later?" Ginny pleaded, and Bridget could hear the pout in her voice. A wave of serenity had come upon Bridget, though, and the loud clamor of chit-chat and easy conversation was in too great of a contrast to her mood for her to stay any longer. She was glad to have an excuse to leave.

"Oh, alright," Missus Weasley obliged with a laugh. "It is our last night, after all."

Bridget didn't like the words "last night." They rang far too true for her to want to think about, and she hated that they could be used so casually with the mother. It was different, though. It wasn't as if she worried any less than Bridget did, but was entirely plausible that nobody else understood exactly what was coming upon them.

To the Weasley family it meant last night before the kids grow up and get lives of their own. It meant last night before all the boys are done with school, their only student being the baby girl, Ginny. She would graduate in a year, though, and nobody knew where they'd be then. Wars do that to people.

Bridget knew that the final moments were approaching, though. When she hears talk about final days and final times together she doesn't think of it in a motherly "last moments as a family" kind of way. She thought of last nights with her husband alive and well, the last moments of her life before it's broken. The last moments of happiness.

A hand grabbed at Bridget's wrist, spinning her around.

"Come back down stairs," his husky voice pleaded, green eyes magnifying brighter than usual.

"I'm tired," she wined, but a smile appeared delicately on her lips. Harry brushed them with is own, smirking proudly.

"I haven't talked to you all night!" he exclaimed. "Don't you want to hear how Ron almost got eaten by a dog?"

Bridget sighed, shaking her head. It was almost natural to avoid him by now, her fear driving her to further and further lengths each day. It was too dangerous to hang around him at this point, though. He would figure out something was wrong and then she'd have no choice but to tell him. And that wasn't something she was ready for yet. It was hard stuff telling somebody they're going to be a daddy.

But pure happiness radiated from Harry's body, warmth easing her bare arms. For a brief moment she longed for her vacation, but with Harry's hands dancing around her waste it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

She missed him. She longed to keep her pregnancy a secret, but she loved him and missed him. She didn't like spending time away from him.

"Look, if I want to get any sleep tonight I'm going to have to start three hours ago. Go back downstairs and I'll try not to be too depressed about not being able to hear the rest of Ron's story telling."

"Are you sure?" Harry questioned, concern etched into his expression.

"Yes!" Bridget exclaimed. "I'm fine. Just the usual going on, but don't worry. Be happy."

Harry gave her a demanding look, obviously not buying it. For once, though, Bridget wasn't lying. She did want sleep. She did want one last night of rest before having to face spending night's with Harry again and explaining vivid nightmares and obvious illness.

She wanted tomorrow to come.

Carefully she stood on her toes and kissed Harry once more, her arms wrapping around his neck. He hand held her side securely, the other palm placed on her face, warming her.

"I love you," she whispered, breaking away. Harry sighed, hugging her before walking downstairs.

"Behave yourself," he called, winking as he left. She smirked, a smug look upon her.

"See you tomorrow!"

And then she retreated to her room, snuck some dreamless sleep potion for good measure, and for the first time in a while slept the night.

Sort of.


	98. Getaways Turned Holidays

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

Hermione Granger had lied.

Now, Hermione was never one to lie, especially to her best friends. She'd never felt the need to hide something from them, the trust they shared rock solid. Most of all, Hermione herself didn't have anything to hide. Her secrets were not her own, but rather Harry's. It seemed, lately, though, that none of Harry's secrets stayed secrets for long.

Just because Hermione didn't lie, did not mean she couldn't keep secrets. It didn't mean _couldn't_ lie. So when Hermione skipped meals with the excuse that she was worried over the upcoming trip, she was really investigating. She didn't like not knowing things, so when it appeared that there might be something to find out Hermione had focused all of her energy on it. And they had all believed her.

But Hermione Granger did not feel guilty.

Bridget Riddle was a liar.

She was one of Hermione's best friends, but that did not mean Bridget would tell the truth. The girl, sweet as she was, was not intent on sharing anything about herself. If something happened she'd hide it within herself for as long as possible, never once mentioning it to anybody, not even her husband.

So, when things started going wrong Hermione was hesitant to accept the excuses Bridget prattled off so easily.

She could understand why Bridget felt the need to hide things. She'd grown up having to bottle everything up inside of her, afraid of the reactions she'd receive from those she told. It would take a lot of prying to get anything out of her, and when the truth was exposed she would always fight against it.

At first, when Bridget explained the worsening nightmares and light flu she seemed to have caught she played it off as nothing. Hermione didn't think twice.

The thing was, when something was wrong with Bridget Riddle it was rarely nothing. While others caught the flu she ended up with malaria or the chicken pox or something equally worse.

So when things didn't get better Hermione had to figure out what was wrong. Something more was going on then what she let everybody believe, but nobody else seemed to notice. Hermione took it upon herself to not involve the others until she knew the truth, not wanting to cause unwanted drama. Hermione took it upon herself to find the truth.

The truth was, the evidence was not adding up.

--

Bridget felt herself being shoved awake, and grumpy, she rolled over and closed her eyes.

"Piss off," she mumbled into the pillow. It had been the first night in a long time that she'd had a dreamless sleep; it was a shame it had to be cut short by what she was sure was Hermione fretting over the trip.

"Get up. I have to talk to you," Hermione ordered, pulling down the sheets. Bridget growled, slowly sitting up. She scowled, looking up to see Hermione with her arm's crossed, a displeased look on her face.

"I swear, Hermione, everything is under control. You don't have to worry. What time is it anyway?" she asked, glancing at the clock.

"Five," Hermione answered for her.

"Hermione!" Bridget wined, throwing herself back into the bed. "Nobody else is awake."

"That's what I was aiming for," Hermione told her.

"What is going on? What is the purpose of this?" Bridget asked, glaring.

"I have to talk to you. Now get up."

"Fine. What do you want?" Bridget asked, sitting up once more. She stared at her friend, a glower set permanently on her face. Hermione didn't speak at first, seeming to choose her words carefully. It was then Bridget stopped her frustrations, seeing something was wrong.

"Tell me what's going on with you," Hermione finally spoke. "The truth."

"What truth?" Bridget asked, her stomach churning. She knew what it was about now. She knew why Hermione had woken her, so early in the morning. She'd found something out. She _knew._

"You aren't just sick. I'm not believing it anymore. Tell me what's really going on," Hermione demanded. She kept her face firm and composed, never wavering on her orders. Bridget sighed, not knowing what to do. So, she did the thing she knew how to do best in times like these.

She lied.

"Nothing-"

"Don't bullshit me, Bridget."

"Hermione-"

"Look, I know you feel as if you have to hide everything, but we're your best friends. _I'm_ your best friend. And if you can't tell me what's up, fine, tell Ron. Because he cares about you too. I sure hope you at least tell Harry, seeing as he's your husband. I mean, don't you trust us?" she ranted.

"Of course, but," Bridget whimpered.

"You aren't in school anymore. You need to take some responsibility and let us now what's up. We can help because you aren't alone anymore."

"I've told you everything!" Bridget exclaimed in one last desperate attempt to save herself from admitting to Hermione what she'd been trying so hard to hide. There had to be a way to convince her that nothing was wrong, that everything was okay…"It's just these dreams."

"No it isn't. I found your potions!" Hermione yelled, holding up a small black bag for evidence. Bridget gulped. There was no way she could get out of it now. She'd have to tell Hermione. There weren't any more lies that could save her.

"Dreamless sleep potions? That's hardly anything to get worked up about," she laughed, trying to delay the final moment.

"And this stuff?" Hermione inquired, holding up a silver bottle. "It's weak, sure, but I have no idea what it's for."

"Look, when I saw Madame Pomphrey before I left she gave me some stuff that I might need, that we might need, that might come in handy," Bridget tried to explain. Every time she opened her mouth she forced herself to tell the truth, but it wasn't working. All that was coming out was lies.

"You're the only one throwing up."

"Well, they weren't for now."

"That's what doesn't make sense," Hermione sighed, sitting down. "I'm no healer, but I've looked over these and there is no illness I can think of that you'd need these potions for. No injury, no curse, no nothing," she trailed off, burying her head in her hands. Bridget ran a hand through her hair, letting guilt flow through her. She hadn't realized until now how much this was tearing Hermione apart.

It wasn't just that Hermione was distressed she couldn't figure something out. It was that she was offended Bridget couldn't trust her with whatever was going on. She'd wanted the truth for a while now and had done everything she could to get it. She was worried over her friend.

Bridget sighed, guilt welling up inside of her. She was going to have to tell Hermione, that was clear by now. Hermione wouldn't rest until she had the truth, so the truth Bridget would give. She closed her eyes, dreading the moment. Except there was no putting it off any longer. She had to do it now or she'd never do it.

"Hermione-"

"Are you cursed or something? Did Voldemort do this to you?" she ranted, racking her brain for answers.

"No, nothing like that."

"Then what? You can trust me."

"The reason you can't think of an illness that would need potions like this is because I'm not sick," Bridget confessed, looking at her feet.

"Then what?" Hermione questioned, eyes wide with emotion. Bridget inhaled deeply, glad it was early enough in the morning that nobody would hear. The moment hung in the hair for a long while before Bridget could speak, forcing the words out of her throat.

"I'm pregnant."

The reaction was chaotic. Many things happened at once.

First, Bridget felt a rush of emotion. She was relieved to have finally told somebody, to finally talk about it with somebody, to not hold the secret so carefully anymore. She was scared, though, of Hermione's reaction. It was pretty intense news telling somebody you were pregnant, especially when it was unplanned. Hermione didn't seem too unhappy, though.

She squealed, jumping up and embracing Bridget in a bone crushing hug.

"Oh my god, Bridget! Why didn't you tell me sooner? This is great!" she shrieked.

"But wait, there's more!" Bridget said, gently pushing her off. "It's twins, a boy and a girl."

"Oh my, how far along are you? How do you know?" Hermione asked, shooting off question after question.

"With magic you can tell a lot earlier," Bridget explained, shrugging.

"Wow," Hermione breathed.

"I found out the last day of exams. I think I got pregnant on the wedding night, though, so I'm a few weeks away from being fat," she wined with a scowl on her face.

"Wow," Hermione repeated. "I mean, I guessed that you and Harry were-know now-but I never would have thought you would have wanted this."

Bridget didn't answer, forcing a smile on her face. Hermione had taken it well, all full of excitement, which was not what Bridget had been expecting. She couldn't sympathize with it either, because Bridget hadn't felt excitement about it yet either. Her face faltered and Hermione took the moment to slow down, realizing.

"You didn't plan it."

"No," Bridget shook her head, her voice barely over a whisper.

"And you haven't told him."

"Double no."

"How are you going to do it?" Hermione questioned. Bridget looked out the window, placing a hand on the stomach that carried life now.

"I wasn't."

_"What?" _Hermione worded, complete shock written on her face. "What were you going to do?"

"Tell him that since I'm married now I can afford to be fat, put them up for adoption, and then get my act together. He never has to know," Bridget exclaimed with a laugh. Hermione stared, not knowing whether or not that was a joke.

"Bridget, even if you don't' decide to keep them you have to tell him. What if he finds out you're pregnant anyway?"

"Then they're Seth's."

"Excuse me?" Hermione choked, stumbling over her words. "You and Seth didn't-"

"No!" Bridget defended. "No, they're for sure Harry's. No chance they couldn't be."

"Then you have to tell him," Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

"Hermione, I know this is going to sound terrible, but he might not get the chance to know. What if he's gone before then?" Bridget said slowly, shame running through her. She hated to think the thought she'd avoiding ever since she found out, and voicing it aloud was even worse.

"Is that why you won't tell him? Is it about the prophecy, because Bridget-"

"Listen. Hermione, I can't tell him not because of what it'll do to me, but because of what it will do it him."

"Explain," Hermione demanded.

"The night I found out I was going to tell him. He'd been waiting for me, wanting to hear what Madame Pomphrey said about the dreams and the throwing up. He also wanted to talk to me, though. What he said…

"He went on about how he'd accepted his death and how he wanted me to do it too. He has this image of me moving on from this life here like it was a phase because he doesn't want us to be unhappy without him. That was when I realized he was guilty. Can you imagine? Him feeling guilty about dying and leaving us behind? It was crazy and-"

"And what? Bridget, really, what?" Hermione asked, still not believing everything she was saying. Bridget sighed, fiddling her thumbs.

"Harry grew up without parents and I know that it still hurts him today. If he's already guilty about leaving me and his friends behind then just imagine how he would feel if he found out he was leaving behind two little babies? Hermione, don't you see? It would kill him."

Hermione did not respond at first, taking the moment to think this over. At first she'd been exited to hear the news of the pregnancy, but it was quickly replaced with worry and foreboding. This was clearly not something Bridget had intended to happen, not something she'd wanted.

"You're right," Hermione agreed finally. "It would kill Harry to know."

"Thank you-"

"But that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve to know. He needs the truth and if you don't give it to him than I will."

Bridget's jaw dropped, her world coming crashing down. Hermione was not joking, not lying, but completely serious and Bridget came to terms with what she'd known all along.

She'd have to tell him.

--

Breakfast that morning chaotic.

"Now, how are you getting there?" Missus Weasley asked worriedly, concern lacing through her voice.

"By plane. Don't worry, I've got the tickets."

Bridget had wanted to ditch magic on this vacation, at least for travels. She knew this was there last chance to be kids before real life kicked in, forcing them to grow up. Part of her was running from that, she admitted, trying to force the magic that had so quickly complicated everything out of her life.

Nothing could touch them in America, it seemed.

"And after that?" Missus Weasley continued.

"Rent-A-Car," Bridget recited as if she'd practiced the lines. She had planned the trip, though, and knew everything by heart.

Besides, the trip was the least of what was on her mind.

All through breakfast Hermione had been shooting her warning glances, a constant reminder of the conversation they'd had just a few hours before. She could no longer keep her hand from traveling to her stomach; she was sure there had to be an imprint by now.

"You okay, love?" Harry asked in-between bites of food. "You look a little pale. Are you still throwing up?"

"No, I'm fine," Bridget choked out, taking his hand. She'd made sure to take her potions that morning, not wanting to become ill on the plane.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," she lied, averting her eyes. Across the table Hermione raised an eyebrow, opening her mouth to say something. Bridget kicked her.

"Bridget, you shouldn't eat so much. You seem to be gaining a bit of weight," Hermione commented offhandedly. Bridget's jaw dropped, eyes widening with fright.

"Yes well I might be having a late growth spurt so there's a lot more of me to feed," Bridget retorted, hardening her eyes on her friend.

"Wow, guys, is something going on that we don't know about?" Ron asked, seeming put back by the sudden tension. Bridget laughed nervously, berating herself for failing to keep things casual.

"No, of course not."

Hermione kept her mouth shut after that, the warning she gave seemingly being enough to force Bridget into action.

Because Bridget would tell Harry, just not today. There was too much going to at the moment to bother herself with such important conversations.

Besides, it was far too fun to distract herself with Ron, who had never been on a muggle plane before.

"My ears hurt. This is so weird. And takes so long! We've been on this plane forever," he whined on and on. Hermione, who was not a stranger to the airplane, eventually got fed up with it and moved away from him. Bridget snatched the opportunity like a child in a candy store.

Ron, oblivious as he was, was the only one she could speak it without things being awkward. Of course, Bridget had to avoid Hermione at all costs, fear of the subject of pregnancy coming up again, and in that same fear Bridget strayed from Harry as well, ignoring the guilt. She thought, at first, that she could hang with Aiden, but he knew immediately that something was up and asked too many questions.

Ron was her only alibi.

"Can you believe food is free here?" Ron exclaimed in amazement, staring down at his soda and peanuts. Bridget, who had only flown on a plane once before, snorted.

"If you want to call that food, then sure."

"I can't wait until we get to California. It's going to be so exiting. Is it true that everybody's gay in San Francisco?"

"I would not know," Bridget chortled. "I have never been."

"And we get to go to LA too, right?"

"That we do."

"And think of all those muggles…" Bridget then tuned him out, figuring he would be much happier babbling about nothing than he would be with her listening and commenting viciously about everything he said. Bridget then closed her eyes, letting the guilt and fear well up inside of her again.


	99. Now You Know

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

**A/N:** Wow! So we are now officially caught up with what I've written. This means that posts will now persist to start coming slower because now I have to actually write the chapters. XDDD Thanks to all those readers who have been reading like CRAZY because I really do post too fast.

* * *

Bridget Potter bit her lip as she leaned against the doorway, watching the three boys devour their breakfast like animals. Hermione stayed happily on the couch, seemingly content with eating her food alone instead of joining the boys.

They five of them were currently in San Francisco, a place that had been strange and exiting along with being mostly refreshing. Bridget found she quite liked the ocean, or the bay, or whatever the hell they called it here. While she did admit to being opposed to the small, crowded streets she had certainly met a large amount of interesting people.

They'd all spent most of their time outdoors, exploring, eyes wide in awe of the wonders of America. At night they stayed in their hotel room, a suite they'd rented easily. There were two queen sized beds in one room, a pull out couch in the other room, a decent sized bathroom, and a small mini kitchen filled with enough food to satisfy Ron's stomach for the length of the trip.

Ron, perhaps, had been Bridget's favorite part of the trip. While none of them besides Hermione and Harry were well acquainted with muggle things Ron was especially enthralled with the muggle world. From meeting his family Bridget found out that this was genetic; his father was the same way.

Ron would spend hours in front of the television, not watching it like normal people, but _studying _it. It took over two hours for Hermione to explain how the pictures got on the screen well enough to keep Ron occupied long enough for her to finish her book. Like a child he rode the elevator up and down, playing with ATMs, phones, and computers. It really was embarrassing when he noticed a muggle with a cell phone or ipod and then thoroughly ambushed them with questions and concerns. Countless times Hermione had had to drag him away from a disturbed stranger, scolding him until he behaved.

They hadn't really had much of a plan when coming to California, assuming there would be enough to see without doing all the research. Hermione was displeased about this, but she obliged eventually, not knowing much about America herself.

So far they'd been there two days and in that time they'd been to the pier, rode these strange electric bus like things, gone to a number of beguiling restaurants, visited two museums, rode a merry-go-round, bought loads of yummy muggle candies, and spent countless hours strolling through a park and meeting interesting homeless people.

Ron, unfortunately, had not been lucky enough to meet any gay people yet, but there was still time. They didn't leave for LA until tomorrow and that left a whole day ahead of them.

Bridget felt proud of herself, for she had planned an event for that day. She wanted to go see a prison on an island just outside of the city. It was called _Alcatraz _and the name held such a resemblance to Azkaban that she was interested enough to check it out. When she'd informed the other four about this they'd grinned and agreed just as wholeheartedly as her that they had to go see it.

After all, who could turn down a chance to see a muggle prison? It would certainly be interesting, and not half as bad as the wizard prisons. Bridget found herself growing with excitement.

There were more pressing matters to take care of first, before Bridget could even think about having fun again. Hermione had given her a due date and that date was today. Either she told Harry about the pregnancy by sundown or Hermione would do it for her. Bridget was sure the rage of Harry Potter would range from bad to horrific if he ever found out she'd been hiding this.

Bridget frowned, mentally wishing her calm days good-bye. She'd been a fool to think this trip could go by without a glitch. Her happiness would be ruined now and Bridget sent a wistful look at Hermione, begging for an extension.

Hermione sensed what Bridget wanted and shook her head, holding steadfast to the due date. Bridget pouted, her hand subconsciously landing on her stomach. Hermione's eyes flickered back and forth between Bridget and Harry, slumping her shoulders and looking defeated.

For a moment Bridget felt gratitude and relief spread through her, happy to be able to put this off a bit longer, but then Hermione shook her head again, looking pointedly at Harry. She still had to do it today.

"Well if I'm going to hell," Bridget muttered, her stomach churning. She was sweating with nerves, feeling as if she might throw up and that didn't have anything to do with pregnancy at all.

"What was that?" Aiden questioned, looking up from his breakfast.

"I have an announcement," Bridget declared and then quickly moved her hands away from her stomach, crossing them and leaning on one foot. The three boys turned to look at her in interest, though Hermione kept her eyes focused on a book she was reading. Bridget glared at her before running a hand through her hair.

"What is it?" Harry questioned, making a move to get up. Bridget shook her head up, though, motioning with her hand that he stay seated.

"It's better if you sit," she assured him, feeling dizzy. Ron gave Harry a quizzical look, but Harry only shrugged, knowing no more than his friend.

"Is it something to do with Voldemort?"

"No, Ron, it isn't anything like that," Bridget sighed, offering him an encouraging smile.

"You didn't have to tell them all at once, you know," Hermione blurted, throwing down her book and standing up. Bridget glowered, gritting her teeth.

"And have the conversation four times? I don't think so," Bridget snorted.

"Harry would-"

"What the bloody hell are you two talking about? What about me?" Harry demanded, looking back and forth between Hermione and Bridget.

"Why does Hermione know?" Ron questioned.

"Yeah, how come you didn't tell us?" Aiden asked, furrowing his brow.

"Us? What about me? I should have known way before Hermione," Harry scoffed, offended.

"I'm her brother."

"I'm her best friend!"

"I'm her husband!"

"I'm pregnant."

The world seemed to stop. A piece of food fell out of Aiden's mouth as it hung open, eyes wide in shock. Ron dropped his fork and it clattered unhappily to the floor. Harry all but fell out of his chair, though his drink did topple over and the juice dripped to the floor.

"It's twins. So I'm pregnant with two babies, technically."

_"What?"_ Harry hissed, but nobody seemed to notice the dysfunctional look on his face, some strange mix between shock and anger as he restrained from peeing his pants.

"That's bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, jumping up and slapping Harry on the back. He jerked forward awkwardly, but Ron paid no notice and instead embraced Bridget in a hug.

"Thanks," Bridget squeaked.

"Oops," Ron mumbled, releasing Bridget. "I didn't…squish them did I? Are we allowed to hug you?"

"I…think so," Bridget responded, her eyebrows knitting together. "Madame Pomphrey didn't say anything against hugs."

"Wait. You've known since school and you haven't said anything?" Aiden commented, standing as well.

"Well-"

"Is that why you've been sick?" Ron questioned, interrupting tactlessly.

"Yeah, actually. But don't worry it's normal. And Madame Pomphrey lectured and gave me a bunch of stuff. I'm fine, really, for now," Bridget rambled nervously, deciding that she was quite alright with this as long as Ron stayed exited and Aiden stayed dubious. Hermione had returned to her book, having already heard all of the details.

As long as Harry didn't have anything to say-

"Um, excuse me," he croaked. Bridget winced. "Can we talk alone for a moment?"

"Ok," Bridget whimpered and Harry grabbed her hand, yanking her out the door of the hotel. She shot a worried glance back at Ron, who shrugged helplessly.

"What the bloody hell do you mean you're _pregnant?"_

"I mean that in about seven and a half months I'm going to have two babies."

"Babies?" he squeaked. He'd become ghostly pale, his face contrasting with his hair dangerously. His glasses were slipping off his nose, a maniac look in his eyes.

"Yes."

"And you've known since before school got out? And you didn't think to tell me?" Harry yelled, throwing his arms up.

"I was afraid you'd get mad-"

"Are they not mine? I swear to God-"

"Dammit, Harry, of course they're yours," Bridget screeched. Harry stepped back, swaying like a drunk as he debated whether it would be worse if they were is or if they weren't. He decided it was about equal.

"How could you let this happen?" he shouted, leaning against the wall.

"Me?" she questioned dryly. "This isn't _my _fault."

Harry ignored her, tearing at his hair angrily. He began pacing up and down the hallway, his eyes darting at all angles but never once touching Bridget. He avoided her, the body that he loved but now carried and supported three instead of one. The thought baffled Harry, sent his brain into disturbia and loss.

"Can't you fix it?"

"Fix it?" Bridget snorted. "I'm not a dog; you can't neuter me."

"But," Harry spluttered. "There has to be-I meant, you can't-"

"Once you're pregnant I don't think there's any going back," Bridget commented, rolling her eyes at his ignorance. "Don't you think I've thought of this?"

"What about-"

"I'm not getting an abortion," Bridget interrupted. "I'm not killing them."

"Dammit!" Harry screamed in a burst of rage and energy. "Why did you let this happen? Why are you doing this?"

"Me? It isn't like I want this either!" Bridget howled. "I didn't wake up one morning and think 'Hey, as if we aren't already screwed enough let's make things worse!' I don't want to be pregnant."

"Then why did you get pregnant? You should have stopped this! You should have known!" Harry rambled, shaking his head. His glasses finally slipped off, falling to the floor and landing in the corner. He ignored them, pacing blindly still, shoulders slumped and tense.

"Me? What about you? I didn't get pregnant on my own, you know. Why didn't you do anything? You're so angry, blaming me, but this _isn't my fault."_

"I'm not the one that's pregnant," Harry hissed. Bridget was hit with a burst of rage and she stood taller, glaring at her husband.

"You're right, Harry. You get off easy. I guess if you don't want to live with this you don't have to."

"What the bloody hell are you going on about-"

"Just forget I ever told you. It isn't like you have to worry about it anyway," Bridget continued, shrugging casually. Her eyes pierced his body, a glare filled with rage and hate that Harry was sure she inherited from her father.

"I _can't_ worry about it," Harry elucidated. "I have to-"

"Have to what? Go get yourself killed? Guess that gets of you of all responsibilities hands down."

"It's not for _me_ or even you, but I-"

"You're Harry Potter, okay? I get it," Bridget sighed, running a hand through her hair. "He has to take care of everything else before his own fucking _family."_

"I don't _have_ a family!" Harry explained, frantic. He had stopped pacing now and instead stood in front of her with a strange, angry, helpless look on his face. Bridget held no pity for him, though, furious by his reactions. She was not to be blamed for this and she wasn't going to sit and listen to him yell and complain.

"Whatever," she groaned, stepping closer to him. "Go take care of your duty to the world, go get yourself killed, but before Voldemort kills you be sure to tell him he's a grandfather now," she paused, laughing at the utter absurdity of the fact. "Then maybe he'll spare you in favor of discussing the pains of fatherhood."

Harry's jaw dropped and he stared at her dumbfounded, stupidly blinking as he tried to comprehend the whole idea of discussing something like that with _Voldemort. _After a moment he regained composure, though, snarling furiously.

"Don't you _dare_ compare me to him," he spat in her face. "If we ever discuss the pains of _anything_ together it wouldn't be fatherhood, it would be _you."_

With that Harry turned on his heal, unlocking the door of the hotel room opening and slamming it shut as he entered. Bridget stood after him in the hallway, feeling the weight of his insults hit her with full force as she found herself alone.

In anger she threw her fist against the wall, leaning her forehead against it in a moment of utter weakness. Her mouth was dry, her head dizzy, as she fell to the ground and closed her eyes. She hugged her knees to her chest, sickened with the fact that this position would become impossible for her in just a few months.

She hated Harry, hated him for doing this for her and then taking no responsibility. The _nerve_ of him to even think about saying those things he said to her fueled the fire that burned and boiled angrily inside her stomach, an acid that ate away at her heart and mind.

Bridget stared at the pattern of the carpet blankly, nostrils flaring as she considered what exactly she was supposed to do now.

Because Bridget Potter was not alone, though Harry had left her out here in the empty hallway of a strange hotel room. She had, in fact, two beings to keep her company now and the full force of that fact hit Bridget as she closed her eyes once more, wondering if it was true when they say "three's a crowd."

--

Bridget sat on the boat back from the prison, resting quietly with her eyes closed and hands folded politely over her lap. There was light chatter about her, but it was tuned out and focused on the light _swish swash_ of the waves hitting the sides of the boat, the ocean peaceful on that summer day.

Bridget smiled despite herself, pleased with the weather, at least. That morning in the mist of awkward tension Hermione had, probably in guilt, babbled on about how she was worried the fog might hinder their experience. San Francisco was notorious for the thick blanket of water that hung over all morning, and sometimes even into the afternoon. Albeit, Bridget was unsure of how exactly that was supposed to effect their time in Alcatraz, she had to admit she was pleased when the fog cleared early and showed up a pretty blue sky, fluffy white clouds scattered among the horizon.

The wind blew gently, twisting and turning Bridget's long hair widely and ringing in her ears, a noise far louder than anything the ocean below offered. As Hermione had complained about before, when it wasn't foggy in the large city it was windy. Bridget didn't mind much, though, thanking the wind for keeping away any bits of humidity that might have settled was it not there.

"Why is the prison still there?" Aiden questioned from beside her. Bridget opened her eyes and turned to face him, a blank look on her face.

"For us to see, I think."

"Why would you ever want to see a prison?" Aiden grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Well, we did. Lots of people do. It's interesting and better than visiting a place where convicts still reside," Bridget noted, shuddering. She'd clutched Aiden's hand tightly during the whole trip, and though the muggle prison was much different from the wizarding one Bridget could not get the images of Azkaban out of her head.

As time passed Bridget admitted to mostly forgetting about the time she spent in Azkaban, but in similar damp cells and hallways it was hard _not_ to remember the echoes of depression and loss that lingered in her brain. While Azkaban had certainly become a memory for her, it had once been a reality and ghosts of that time swam in her brain, etching themselves on her eyeballs.

"You alright? Weasley was sending you lots of concerned glances during the tour," Aiden asked, knitting his eyebrows together. Bridget sighed, shrugging. It became clear almost immediately after the end of the fight that sides would have to be taken. Because of their seven year friendship, Hermione and Ron both clung to Harry's furious side, but that did not stop them for shooting glances of sympathy and worry her way.

They both knew, Bridget thought, that Harry was wrong and she'd caught Hermione scolding Harry enthusiastically more than once. So, during the remainder of the trip, or at least until Harry and Bridget could reconcile, their group had become slip, Aiden being the only one who faithfully stood by Bridget.

"Ron understands the best," Bridget laughed, shaking her head. For some reason the males of her little group of friends found it fitting to call one by their last name when the two weren't on good terms. Bridget couldn't see the difference it made, but she'd quickly gotten used to responding to "Weasley" and "Granger" as if that was what they were usually called. It was a little more difficult to adjust to "Potter," however, when she shared the same name.

"Not Potter? Even when he's angry-"

"Harry didn't much care about me for a while, if you didn't notice. I wasn't trusted, but Ron always noticed when something was wrong. Things are different now, but Ron's still the only one that remembers much about the way things were before."

"Before?" Aiden inquired, leaning forward in interest.

"You know about me going to Azkaban, don't you?"

"Yes," Aiden responded immediately. "Was it difficult seeing another prison today?"

"A little, yeah," Bridget confessed. "Azkaban is an island too, you know, and they're similar than I expected"

"I'm sorry," Aiden sighed, placing an arm around her an hugging her close. Bridget smiled lightly, leaning into him.

"Ron, I think, is the only one of the three that ever understood what Azkaban _meant_ or who cared enough at the time to know what it was like, to ask questions."

"What about when you and Potter got together? He sounds like a git for just brushing it off."

"It isn't like that," Bridget frowned, shaking her head. "We were happy and it was pointless to bring things up from the past."

_"Were_ happy?" Aiden pressed. Bridget turned to glare at him. They hadn't spoken about the pregnancy or the fight yet, but she had a feeling it was inevitable now. He was ready to ask questions, even if she wasn't sure she was ready to answer them.

"Things are different now. You all heard the things he said to be," she whispered, eyes darting towards the ground and watching a small bug inch its way across the floor.

"Potter's ridiculous, Bee. You surely know that. He's ignorant and selfish. He lives in his own little world and the day he stops to look at anything from another's perspective is the day the world implodes. You really shouldn't have gone for a Gryffindor."

"What?" Bridget snorted, wondering when exactly school houses got involved in the conversation. Aiden could not see the humor in the matter, though, and he instead shook his head.

"Gryffindors are lions, or haven't you heard? They're passionate and let their emotions rule out over common sense. If anybody gets them-Potter especially-riled up then they leap into actions, casting hexes and insults faster than they know what they're saying."

"If this is your way of comforting me it isn't working very well," Bridget commented dryly, rolling her eyes. "We aren't even in school anymore."

"But Potter's still a schoolboy."

Bridget bit her lip, considering this for a moment. At first, she didn't think there was anything wrong with this. So what if they wanted to act like children? There was never anything wrong with children, even though they did bicker and argue and lack responsibility. Harry had always been driven, he'd always acted before thinking, but before now Bridget had never bothered to find fault in that.

Now, she wasn't so sure. Harry had always thought of others before him, but his immediate actions never quite affected those he fought to attentively to save. That was why he agreed to come on the trip in the first place. A week away from home would hinder his Order activities, but they both know he'd work twice as hard when he got back and that not much could be done in the grand scheme of things _had_ they stayed home.

Not everything was quite that simple now. In just several months time their every action would affect those surrounding them. Harry could not afford to be reckless when their children were involved. In fact, neither could Bridget. With that thought in mind the blonde girl was faced head on with her problems, and sitting on the boat next to her brother, she found clarity.

"And schoolboys can't be fathers," she whispered, turning her blue eyes upon Aiden's brown ones. He nodded towards her, a strangely blank look on his face. Bridget wrung her hands together, her mouth opened slightly in shock.

"Neither can schoolgirls be mothers."

And that was when Bridget Potter decided to grow up.

--

Harry Potter was having trouble focusing. The five of them, enforced by Hermione, had all decided to go out to dinner. The restaurant they'd chosen had been a nice one, full of good food and pleasant serves, but it wasn't fancy enough that Ron had to be scolded for his lack of manners. It was actually a fairly loud restaurant, designed to look like a forest and held the sounds of such a place. Every fifteen minutes an elephant was sound or the illusion of a rainstorm would be put into effect. It was like living in the Great Hall again, but in the middle of Africa and much more annoying.

Of course, the teenagers-almost-adults were completely at home, sharing food and laughs in a sad attempt to overcome the tension and anger that lingered in the back of their minds. Harry didn't much care for listening to Ron's forced conversation, hiding from Aiden's intense glares, or-especially not-avoiding Bridget's wandering, lost, eyes.

And even if he did he couldn't because all he could hear was crying.

Just a few seats down, muffled by all the other noises in the restaurant, was a child who looked about three. He didn't suppose anybody else noticed the kid, being too enthralled with other surroundings, but without intending to Harry's eyes landed on his the moment they stepped into the room. His stomach lurched uncomfortably, his eyes darting to Bridget and then back to the child.

At first, Harry had been annoyed with this toddler. He was wining about something, holding is arms out and demanding attention the wry parents were all too generous in giving. He was never satisfied, always wanting even when there was nothing left to give. For the parents, looking embarrassed at their child's fuss, it had to be a hassle just living with the thing. How had they not killed themselves yet? No wonder adults looked so grumpy all the time if they had to deal with this all day.

Then, suddenly, the rainstorm began. The three year old froze, eyes wide and amazed as he gazed upon the changing atmosphere.

"This is bloody ridiculous," Ron complained, but Harry wasn't listening. The baby was laughing and clapping his hands together, standing on the seat and falling into his father in glee. Relieved that their child was no longer crying, the parents grinned and hugged the little boy, who in a fit of joy placed a sloppy kiss on his mother's cheek.

They were a family. And Harry had never had a really family-not like that. That little kid had not a care in the world aside from diapers and flavors of juice and faux rainstorms in restaurants. He had parents who loved him more than life itself and who sacrificed everything to please him. Together they laughed and loved, even when things might be bad, they were connected in bonds as thick as blood and _Harry had never had that._

And before long the raven haired boy who picturing images he shouldn't be picturing at all. He hoped his kids weren't blonde-not that he had anything against Bridget's light hair-but for the brief moment he'd thought the kids weren't his he'd imagined them blonde, like Seth. So Harry decided they were to be raven haired like him, but not unruly. They should be wavy, but not too straight, like Bridget's. And at least one of them-because _oh God, he was having two-_should have his eyes. His mothers eyes would _not_ die out. And perhaps they shouldn't have his eyesight, but rather his ears or nose or something like that. But Bridget's cheekbones and hopefully not too many Voldemort genes, but perhaps he'd inherit the something from the Blacks and be a little like Sirius, though Sirius was never the typical Black-

Harry stopped himself, shaking his head. His thoughts were strung together, most of them not making sense, and they were tangled leaving Harry confused as to where one started and the other ended. So, in a fit of annoyance, he cut them off. He shouldn't be thinking about things like that because Harry _couldn't have kids. _He had to fight Voldemort and he didn't want to leave them just as parentless as he was. He was supposed to _die,_ and he never wanted his own kids to live without two parents. Nobody deserved that and especially now that he knew what it was like he could not let that happen to somebody else, especially a somebody else that happened to share his genes.

Kids were, to put it simply, not in the plan.

But he was having them anyway.

Harry sighed, looking up at Bridget for the first time that night. Hermione was babbling on with Aiden about something she read somewhere, Ron forcing himself not to fall asleep as he listened intently to the ins and outs of Goblin gold. Bridget, on the other hand, was staring straight ahead, wrinkles of concentration knit tightly on her face.

She was biting her nails, a habit Harry knew she only did when she was _really_ thinking. He knew Bridget thought quite often, worrying and planning all the time, so much that he was sure she never quite let go anymore. There was so much to think about now, especially now, he was surprised she hadn't gone grey.

Now, however, Harry could recognize the way her thought was processing. This was a more strategic kind of thinking, one that reminded Harry painfully of Hermione. Just by the look on her face Harry could tell that Bridget was about to make some sort of decision and after that there wouldn't be much that could change her mind. Harry knew he had to stop her, in fear that she was about to do something stupid, but he wasn't quite ready to face her.

Harry was dead scared, in fact, and though he felt bad about their fight, about the things he'd said to her, he wasn't quite ready to face the truth yet. He could imagine what his kids would look like, he could consider all the reasons he shouldn't have them, but it would never once become reality in his mind until he spoke to Bridget again. With that thought in mind Harry knew he couldn't talk to her yet, not until he'd gathering his thoughts and made a couple decisions himself. He couldn't face it yet, couldn't talk to her about, couldn't do much of anything really.

He was silent the rest of the night, sitting patiently at the table in the hotel room as he watched the rest of his friends slowly fall asleep. It wasn't until Bridget was fast asleep-Aiden being the only one up-that Harry stood from his seat and walked over to her.

"What the bloody hell are you playing at?" Aiden demanded from the edge of the couch. Harry sighed, gazing down on the girl's body. She was curled up awkwardly on the couch, a position that was sure to send her muscles into spasms in the morning. The same expression from dinner was still set on her face.

"She can't sleep here," Harry grunted, bending down and slipping his hands under her body. He lifted her up carefully, making sure to position her securely so that there was no chance of dropping her.

"Well she isn't sleeping with _you,"_ Aiden retorted, following Harry as he placed Bridget on the empty bed beside Ron and Hermione's. Carefully, he pulled the covers over her body, gently leaving her and turning to face Aiden again. He brought a finger to his lips in warning, waving his arm and followed Aiden out into the main room.

"She's pregnant. She can't sleep on the couch," Harry told him. Admittedly, Harry wasn't sure if that was true or not, but he wasn't taking any chances. He'd never known anybody pregnant before and he certainly wasn't sure if they had to sleep any differently, but Harry didn't have the recourses to find out so he decided to just leave her the way she'd been sleeping before.

"And where are you sleeping? Because don't think I didn't hear what you said to her and I'm-"

"You go in there and share the bed with her, then. I'll take the couch," Harry suggested, shrugging as he settled himself on the lumpy cushions. Aiden exhaled, but did not protest as he entered the room in which his sister slept.

She was like a log, the only indication that she was alive being the fact that she was breathing. Otherwise, Bridget was out cold. She'd fallen into the depths of slumber, blackness overcoming her like water and saving her from the concerns of reality.

She did not resurface.


	100. Life Without Living

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

**A/N:** WOW! It has been a while, hasn't it? I'm sorry for such the long distance of time between chapters, but highschool has just started and the work is killing me. Not to mention the lack of sleep.

But it IS hard to believe I'm on chapter 100. Though I haven't been posting here for that long, I HAVE been working on this story for about two years. It's amazing to see how far it as come and how many readers have blessed me with reviews and comments. So I would just like to say: THANK YOU!

On another note, this IS the fatal 100 chapter and instead of making some big and dramatic happened I've decided to branch out and do a dream sequence. That being said, this chapter is italicized because it's all a dream. It's not real and written purely for the fact that I was in an angsty mood. And it will affect Bridget in later chapters.

So enjoy the story and tune in next time for what happens next!!

* * *

_"Bridget! Bridget, wake up!" Hermione cried, shoving her friend. Bridget groaned, rolling over in bed and burying her face in the pillows._

_"I don't feel like getting up today." _

_Hermione sighed, ripping the covers off of Bridget. Her face was set in a stony glare, annoyance clearly placed on her face. The girl had always been known to sleep in, but this was a matter totally different. She had to get up eventually, had to do something, anything, couldn't just sit here forever._

_"You smell. Take a shower and be downstairs in a half an hour." _

_"No," Bridget hissed, pulling the duvet back over her skinny body. Hermione had long ago stopped wincing at the ribs that poked out of her chest. It was useless to try and force the girl to eat, almost as useless as it was to try and get her out of bed. She'd become used to the way Bridget was, a mess in herself, and most days let Bridget get away with hiding out in her room. _

_"It's been weeks since you've left the house. Get up and get dressed or I will do it for you."_

_"Why can't you?" Bridget mumbled, inhaling deeply. "I don't want to do anything. It's worse today-"_

_"You say that everyday," Hermione scoffed. "And I can't because they aren't my children. They are yours." _

_"They shouldn't be…This shouldn't have happened-"_

_"Bridget Hope!" Hermione cried, forcing herself not to say the last name. She often disregarded Bridget's wishes, but in order to get what she wanted Hermione knew she'd have to oblige. If Bridget wanted to forget her last name-whether it be Potter or Riddle-that was her choice. "Today is your children's first day of school. And they need you. You can sit around all day and not do anything for them, but today you will get up and you will see them off the train. You owe them that much, don't you? They love you! You are their mother!" _

_"Don't say that!" Bridget hissed, sitting up. Her eyes were alit with a maniac expression, her face wrinkled with pain. "Don't-"_

_"I will not argue with you anymore," Hermione stated, placing a hand on her hip. "Your children need you and you will be there for them. So get up and get yourself together or you will pay the consequences." _

_"Get out," Bridget ordered, pointing towards the door. Hermione glared, resisting the temptation to throw open the curtains and let some life in. The room was constantly dark, the walls painted navy and the carpet fading into nothingness. Even if she did open the windows it wouldn't matter, though; Bridget had destroyed the outside a long time ago. _

_In the beginning Hermione had tried her best to help. She'd fixed up the house, made it nice for the children and comfortable for Bridget. Once of her first projects had been a cute little garden outside of Bridget's room, a happy reminder to brighten her day. It had been going well, for a while, until one afternoon Hermione came home to find it in ruins. The plants were destroyed, the earth torn up, and everything around it a mess._

_"What have you done?" Hermione had shouted, throwing her arms in the air. Bridget turned slowly, her nostrils flaring._

_"Why should they live? Why should life go on, a perfect circle, like it always does? Everything has changed! Why-Why do those flowers get to survive when he does not?" _

_And after that day everything got worse. _

_After Harry's death everyone grieved. Sure, Voldemort had gone with him, but nobody could bring themselves to celebrate when the Boy Who Lived was alive no more. Especially Bridget, who was six months pregnant with the children that would never know their father. _

_After the initially month of grieving people began to move on. Even Ron and Hermione, Harry's best friends, had found the strength in themselves to get back on their feet. They had each other and they would always remember the wonderful times they had with Harry, the hope he'd brought to them when the world had none. _

_Bridget, however, was not so easy to heal. She was always angry, lashing out at anybody who got in her way. For a while it had been helpful. The anger and hate had given her strength and after the birth of her children she threw herself into assisting with any post war efforts she could find. The world accepted her with open arms, sympathizing the girl who once famous for being Voldemort's daughter, was now Harry Potter's widow. _

_It was unfair to say things like that, though. Bridget was only twenty-nine and she'd been widowed at eighteen. Eventually, the anger simpered out and it left only sadness. From then on Bridget was nothing, a useless mass of skin and bones who lived in her room._

_She rarely left the house and even then favored the time alone sulking in bed. She'd stopped eating, stopped showering, stopped doing anything but grieve. After the flower incident she neglected her children, hating them almost as much as she'd hated her father. Eventually, Hermione had to move in to care for them. It was clear there was no way of helping Bridget now and the only thing left that was important was making sure her children had a good life. Their mother was ruined, hopeless, and Hermione had quickly given up on her. It wasn't worth the effort. _

_Hermione simply let Bridget do what she wanted. At first she'd try to get her back together, but eventually it was too much stress. She had a job too; she had a life. She couldn't live Bridget's for her. _

_Hermione sighed as she sat down on the kitchen table, resting her head as she listened to Ron scuffle about in the kitchen._

_"Why do you do this?" he sneered. Ron and Hermione were still together; they'd gotten married a few short years after the end of the war. Ron supported Hermione in everything she did, but that did not mean he agreed. It was surreal, really, to see how things turned out._

_Back in their years of school Ron had been the first to accept Bridget, to trust her for who she was instead of blindly believing what everybody thought. After the initial friendship he'd stood beside her, helping her subtly whenever she needed it and eventually bringing her together with Harry. Ron and Bridget were best friends, their bond strong and unbreakable. _

_After the war, however, Bridget faded away and Ron could not bring himself to forgive her for the things she'd done. Not only did she ignore her children, but she was rude to her friends, though they were slowly dwindling. Hermione was sure she and Ron were the only ones she had left. She'd pushed everybody away, disappearing into the wallpaper, so to speak. _

_Hermione, truthfully, was the only one who stuck around and persisted to help. Ron accompanied her, cooked occasionally, but Hermione could not remember the last time he'd spoken to Bridget. _

_"She wasn't always a wretched person," Hermione mused, turning to look at her husband. A small smile lingered on her face as she remembered. It was true; once Bridget had been lively and strong. Once she had been loyal and friendly, clever and loud. Once, sometime in the past, Bridget had been somebody._

_"So?" Ron jeered. "That was a long time ago. It's a different time now. She's insufferable, completely mental. It's not worth it." _

_"You're right," Hermione agreed. "And sometimes I wonder why I bother. But there are always the children to think about."_

_This comment softened Ron for a moment, his eyes weakening as he remembered the little raven haired boys that were getting ready upstairs. They looked exactly like Harry, holding little resemblance to their mother. Perhaps that was why she hated them so._

_"We should take them. Leave her hear to rot. I'd do anything for them, but it can't help to keep them here in this horrible place with that horrible woman." _

_"I know," Hermione groaned. "But I can't bring myself to do it."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because he loved her once, don't you remember?" Hermione cried, tugging at her hair. "Not only was she our friend, but she was his wife. And he wouldn't want this. He wanted the best for her and he loved her and," Hermione choked back tears as she spoke, her mouth dry and painful._

_"Hermione," Ron mumbled, placing a warm hand on her back. "He's-"_

_"Don't say he's gone!" she shouted, turning the force of her glare on him. "He's here. He lives in us, through us." _

_"Okay," Ron said, rubbing circles in an attempt to ease the tension that had settled itself on Hermione. _

_"Ron!" came the cries of the boys as they tumbled in the room, clutching to their uncle in glee. _

_"Morning," Ron greeted with a grin. "Breakfast?" _

_"Yes!" _

_So the day began, like any other, with Ron cooking breakfast and Hermione fussing over the boys and making sure they had everything they needed for school. _

_"Wand?" _

_"Hermione," they wined. "How could we forget our wands?" _

_"Just making sure," she chuckled cheekily. The boys ate happily, bursting with excitement. Never before had Hermione met any boys has rambunctious as these, and she relished the feeling of watching them experience their first time at Hogwarts. _

_The morning was dwindling, though, and it was soon time to leave. Hermione sighed, Ron helped with their things, and they were almost out the door when a voice stopped them. _

_"Wait." _

_The four turned in surprise to see the body of Bridget staring at them blankly. Ron's jaw dropped and Hermione gazed on her friend in relief and appreciation. She had showered, though her hair was still stringy and wet. Her thin body was shielded by thick billowing robes and her face was pale and chalky. There were bags under her eyes even though she slept all day, and it was obvious that illness had overtaken her._

_"Mom!" the twins shrieked, not caring what she looked like as long as they got to see her. "Are you coming with us?"_

_"Yes," she responded, looking upon them with indifference. Her eyes were blank, their once rich shade of blue having faded into a dull grey. The twins smiled in glee, each one taking a hand of their mother. _

_"We're taking a car," Hermione informed Bridget. "Ron's thrilled to be able to use his license." _

_"Oh," Bridget breathed, turning to look at Ron. She still held no emotion, though there was a trace of confusion evident. It occurred to Hermione that Bridget might not know what a car or license was anymore. She'd been years behind concerning the wizarding world; she must not know anything about the muggle world. _

_"Would you like to sit up front or in back with the kids?" Ron questioned, his tone dangerous and eyes glaring hard. Bridget paid no attention to him, though, staring at the bright world before her in perplexity. _

_"With us!" the twins chorused, dragging their mother to the light beige car. Bridget eased into the middle seat, clutching her legs as she stared ahead of her. There was a light chatter of the twins on each side of her, but she'd long ago stopped listening to them. They didn't often speak and she hardly knew them anymore. Now that they were leaving for the year what was the point of learning now? _

_The car moved along the road silently and Bridget struggled to keep her mind blank. The kids were the only ones talking with the exception of Ron's occasional comment or Hermione's simple answer to a question. Bridget stayed silent, forcing her mind to focus on nothing._

_The task proved to be more difficult than imagined. She had been alone in her room, quiet and silent and dark without any reminders of her life, but now he was everywhere. On the street, a man with glasses called her heart like a songbird. A dark haired stranger drove the car next to theirs as they stopped at a light. There was a fellow with a funny shaped scar and combined with the voices of boys that sounded so much like him-_

_It was a relief to get out of the car. She trailed behind the group, keeping her eyes down at her feet and avoiding any strange looks she might be getting. Nobody noticed her. She was in muggle territory now, a safe place from all those that reminded her of him. _

_It didn't last long as they passed the barrier to platform nine and three quarters. Suddenly Bridget was bombarded with memories, echoes of the past swimming in her brain. She was sitting with him on the train, buried in loss and depression, but he comforted her. He never left her. Instead, he was ripped away from her and with him went her heart. _

_She no longer saw her children, but instead his face, so perfect and desirable, young and innocent as he prepared for another year of school. If only they'd spent more time in that place, focusing on different things instead of getting caught up in the messes they'd made. Perhaps if Bridget had the knowledge she knew now she could have done things differently, could have saved him from the fate that waited for him. _

_Faint whispers clouded Bridget's ears, the words of strangers passing through impolitely. It had been years since she'd been seen in the public and many were surprised to find the wife of the savior of the world out in the open. How wonderful it was that her children were still well!_

_A few people greeted the group, something the twins found great amusement in. They were despicable, embarrassing, and made Bridget want to hide her face in her robes. They knew of the story of their father and they were proud-as they should be-but how could they smile and speak of him? How dare they say his name?_

_"I'm sure dad would have loved to meet you. I bet he liked meeting new people, you know-"_

_"Shut up!" Bridget cried, pushing aside the twins. "You don't know anything about him. You don't-"_

_"Bridget," Hermione warned, placing a cool hand on her shoulder. The girl was furious, though, swiping it off with one clean movement. _

_"I have not forgotten my magic, you know," she hissed, glaring at the bushy haired girl. Then she turned to the stranger, preparing to unleash the full of her wrath._

_"Mrs. Potter, it is an honor-"_

_"Don't say his name!" she ordered, brandishing her wand. "You did not know him and I'm sure he would have hated you. He didn't like new people, you know. He didn't…You don't deserve to say his name to even think about it!" _

_"Mom-"_

_"Have fun a school," Bridget snapped, turning on her heel and leaving the platform. She ran all the way back to the car, not turning back for anything or anyone. She needed to get away, needed to escape, couldn't take it anymore. _

_How could this have happened to her? It had been years since that fateful day and she still was haunted by the memories. She couldn't live without him anymore, didn't see the point in surviving. She couldn't even manage to send her own children off to school without making a fuss. Harry must see her now, looking down upon her from heaven and scowling. Everything was ruined without him. Everything-_

_"Why did you come?" Hermione questioned, leaning against the door. Bridget scanned the crowd for Ron, but she saw no head of red. Only Hermione stood beside her, her only friend left. _

_"You told me I was to come." _

_"I wanted you to be pleasant. Not freak out. They're embarrassed. They-"_

_"I know," Bridget cut Hermione off, slipping to the ground. She buried her face in her lap, clutching her knees in desperation. _

_"I don't know what else to do. Do you even know? Or care?" Hermione babbled._

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Sorry isn't enough," Hermione sighed. "I think it's time you let the boys come live with us. Ron and I-we'll take good care of them. I can't live with you anymore." _

_"I-"_

_"He's gone, Bridget. Harry is dead!" Hermione exclaimed. Bridget looked up, her breath hitching. _

_"Don't-"_

_"You need to move on. And if you can't then fine, but I won't let you drag us down with you any longer. It isn't what he would have wanted."_

_"I miss him so much, Hermione-"_

_"And I don't? He was my best friend, my first friend, and I loved him more than anybody else-except Ron."_

_"But I was in love with him! He was my everything, my reason, my savior…"_

_"What he meant to us all means nothing now. Your loss may be greater, but your pain is not. You choose to handle it in this way and I don't blame you…Look at your father. I suppose it is only to be expected." _

_"Hermione," Bridget said. She didn't really know what to say to that. She didn't know if Hermione was right, if it was worth fighting anymore. She felt tired and sick, her body slowly breaking itself down. When was the last time she'd done anything productive? Had it realty been years ago, before his death? _

_"Go home."_

_"I see him everywhere," she blurted, her mouth hanging open in despair. _

_"Ron and I won't be stopping by anymore. The twins can live with us. Go home." _

_Bridget pondered that word for a moment, staring at her friend in disbelief. Hermione had given up on her. After all these years Hermione had finally decided it wasn't worth it. _

_"Good-bye," Bridget whispered before apperating to her house. Her home. _

_She managed to find her bedroom, the only home she'd come to know in the past years. Herr breathing was ragged as she hugged her pillow, staring at an old wicker chair in the corner. A wind seemed to be rocking it and Bridget's eyes glazed over, her imagination running wild. _

_Harry was sitting in the chair, smiling like she remembered, and reading a story. His glasses were falling off his nose, his hair disheveled. Noticing her wandering eyes Harry looked up from the novel, casting the full of his emerald orbs upon her. _

_"Come to bed, Harry," Bridget pleaded, her face pouting. Harry didn't speak, probably couldn't-hallucinations weren't that powerful-but he did obey her. His warmth entered the bed smoothly, far smoother than any human could ever be. Bridget clutched his body, inhaling his smell as she pretended._

_"I love you, Harry," she whispered into his chest, closing her eyes as she let herself fall into rest. Perhaps they could live there forever, a perfect life with perfect dreams and perfection better than reality. If she could only keep her eyes shut long enough she really would be with Harry, really would rejoin his home. _

_For now she settled with her imagination, a Harry who lived through everything, whose body was that of the past, whose face one of a teenager who never got the chance to be a kid. _

_"I love you too, Bridget," she imagined him saying, his mouth biting at her ears and whispering nonsense into her. She smiled serenely, alone at last. _

_A black silence overcame the girl, her world spinning inside her head as everything got thrown up again. She tossed and turned in her bed, words melding into each other and thoughts not making sense._

_Her brain became something equivalent of a large run-on sentence, the pieces of a puzzle fitting together. Messes were cleaned, mistakes remade, and everything fell into place in one large pile of nothingness._

_It was silent for a moment, the world settling as the future took its tone. _

_Morning broke, and the words returned, so similar, so beautiful, so different. _

"Bridget! Bridget, wake up!"


	101. Clarity

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

**A/N:** I know this chapter gets a little weird. I promise things will start to get back on track as they return home from America.

* * *

"Bridget! Bridget, wake up!"

Bridget Potter opened her eyes, brushing strands of dirty hair out of her face. Hermione stood above her, almost identical to her dream, and pulled back the covers. Bridget inhaled slowly, squinting as she got out of bed.

"Sorry," she whispered, her voice still hoarse from sleep. She could hear the sound of boys from the other room and strained to hear Harry's in particular. Her muscles relaxed at the sound of him, her brain taking comfort in reality.

"It's alright. I know yesterday was hard, but we have to go today."

"Oh."

Bridget's lips turned downward in a frown, her eyes flickering towards the mirror. Today was the day they made the long drive from San Francisco to LA, the rest of their vacation to be spent on a beach. Bridget was exited, having never been to a warm beach before. However, the drive was around nine hours and she wasn't sure if could handle nine hours in a car with Harry Potter.

"You don't have to get dressed," Hermione informed her, throwing a handful of clothes into her bag. "I don't think we'll be doing anything worth looking good for."

"You're probably right," Bridget agreed, shaking her head. She pulled her hair up, grabbed a jacket, and then continued to pack her things. She noticed that everybody's else's luggage was thoroughly backed. They must have all let her sleep in that morning.

"Are you okay?" Hermione questioned from across the room. The silence was deafening, an awkward feeling settling between the two friends like dust on a window.

"Yeah. I'm not sick this morning, at least."

"That's not what I meant."

"It could be worse," was all Bridget said in response, zipping up her suitcase and smiling. She rubbed her head in exhaustion, trying to shake off the eerie feeling and memories. She wouldn't let herself focus on the dream of last night, at least not until she was safely settled in the car drive.

"Morning," the boys chorused as Hermione and Bridget dragged their things into the main room. Immediately, Aiden and Ron jumped up and took hold of their bags. Reluctantly, Bridget let go of her bag and allowed him to carry it outside the room and towards the care. She followed silently behind, making sure to stay away from a lingering Harry towards the back of the group.

"Shot gun," Aiden called, slipping into the front seat after the car was packed. Bridget glared at him, knowing that would mean sitting in back with Harry.

"I want an edge," she announced, sitting behind Aiden. Ron and Harry got in on the other side, luckily leaving the redhead between the feuding couple. It didn't take long for Bridget to order Aiden to turn on the radio until the right song played and then she rested her head against the window and lost herself in her thoughts.

She remembered last night's dream vividly, though it held nothing special to it. It was a normal dream, not magical like the ones she had so often now. This was a comfort to Bridget. She still hadn't managed to solve the mystery behind the dreams that plagued her every night so it was always a gift when they left her.

Last night's dream had not been special, but it might as well be prophetic. It was common knowledge to all what Harry's fate was, a fly always buzzing around annoyingly in everybody's brain. There would be a final battle and Harry would fail, falling to his death by the hand's of Lord Voldemort. It was written in the book of fate in ink; Bridget had given up on changing it.

Bridget had long since stopped worrying over it. She was going to listen to Harry's advice and move on; what better time to start then now? She couldn't let herself get caught up in her feelings for him. There had to be more to life, right?

Mostly, the Bridget from her dreams just scared her. She was sickened by the hopelessness and disregard for anybody else. She didn't want to become that selfish, wretched person. Just because Harry was gone did not mean Bridget wasn't a person. Her heart would always belong to him, but she still held her mind and soul.

Yesterday Bridget had promised herself she'd grow up. Now that she was to be responsible for two other human beings she had to act like it. She could no longer run away from her problems, could no longer get caught up in emotions and act on impulse. Things would never be as simple as she was used to.

Bridget had to learn to stand on her own. She had to learn how to live, how to provide, how to exist as a successful human being without somebody by her side. She loved Harry more than life itself, but she needed to learn how to not need him. Bridget didn't want to be "Harry's wife." She wanted to be her own person, even if he wasn't around.

The road was long and straight, right through the middle of nowhere. Bridget stared intently onto the vast empty land, biting away at her lip. The car was silent with the exception of Hermione's miniscule attempts at light chatter. After a while she just gave up, though, the only noise being the radio and the odd snide remark from Ron.

"I'm hungry," Ron complained, breaking the tension. The car chorused with light laughter and Bridget tore her eyes from the nothingness to nudge Ron playfully.

"There's a wizard town a few miles ahead," Hermione stated. "We can stop there."

"Sounds good to me," Bridget said. "Didn't know there were wizard towns in America, though."

"That's because you didn't do the research," Hermione retorted. Bridget grinned despite herself, making a note that just because things weren't going exactly how she'd planned didn't mean the world was over.

They five some parked the car on the road, sneakily stepping into an alley. They strode down a few paces into the darkness before complete sun shined down on them, showing them a world like nothing they'd ever seen before.

"Good afternoon, corporate America," Aiden said dryly, rolling his eyes. The streets were lined with thousands and thousands of stores, each one as ridiculous as the next. There were a few reasonable buildings, robes shops, pet stores, ice cream parlors, but most of it was just souvenir shops.

"Do people really come here often?" Bridget questioned to nobody in particular as she strolled down the street, eyeing the stores in disbelief.

"Apparently," Hermione responded, lacing fingers with Ron as they followed her.

"See anyplace good to eat?" Aiden pondered.

"All I see is a bunch of useless shops-oh hey! A joke stop!" Ron exclaimed, stepping sideways to look in then window. Hermione scowled, narrowing her eyes.

"Ron, please," she begged. "This isn't like Britain. I bet nothing in there even works."

"America sucks."

_"Oh God," _Harry gasped, tugging on Ron's cloak and pointing towards a building near the end of the road.

"Oh, a restaurant!"

"No," Harry corrected. "Beside it."

Bridget turned her eyes towards where he was pointing and almost choked on her own spit. Beside her, Aiden snickered.

"The Potter Store. Catchy, don't you think?"

"This is ridiculous. I can't be famous here too!" Harry muttered angrily, narrowing his eyes. Bridget bit her lip from laughing.

"Let's go look," she suggested.

"No!" Harry exclaimed, turning to look at her. Bridget froze, her breathe hitching; this was the first time Harry had spoken to her since she'd told him about the pregnancy. Harry seemed to realize that too, and his eyes set in anger. Bridget stood her ground.

"No?"

"We're not going in there. No way."

"You don't have to, but I am. And just because you don't like it doesn't mean nobody else can either."

"Bitch."

Bridget shook her head, turning towards the store. She didn't stop to see if any footsteps followed her, but slowly they did. First Aiden, then Hermione, then Ron, and finally Harry. Bridget placed her hand on the door, pushing it open. A bell went off, alerting the manager somebody had entered.

Apparently, they weren't the only somebody's who had.

The Potter Store was crowded with hundreds of people-mostly girls-each one of them talking animatedly and pointing towards posters and dolls or whatever else the store was cluttered with.

"Oh my God," Hermione whispered, lazily picking up a Harry Potter action figure. Bridget couldn't help but giggle, flicking around a scar shaped keychain.

"Gotta love America."

The group split up, then, Harry staying very near to the door and allowing Ron and Aiden to block him from view. Hermione and Bridget ventured further, pushing past hundreds of crazy fangirls as they went.

"This is crazy. America's weird."

"Yeah. I didn't even know he was famous here. Voldemort hasn't really focused on anything overseas yet."

Bridget nodded in agreement, picking up a book from the shelf and flipping through it. The smell of unread pages danced in her nostrils, the words of Harry's past flipping past her widely. Hermione followed her lead, picking up a different book and reading intently. Probably checking for accuracy.

Bridget chuckled to herself, placing the book on the shelf again and turning around, only to bump into somebody.

"Oh, I'm sorry-"

"It's alright," a hyper looking girl of about fifteen said, placing a hand to her heart. "Sometimes my eyes cloud in here too."

"What?" Bridget stuttered, a look of confusion on her face.

"I mean Harry Potter is just _so dreamy." _

"Oh," Bridget snorted, covering her face in an attempt to hide the snickers.

"You don't think so?" she challenged. "Have you seen him recently?"

"Actually-"

"What would I give to meet him. I knew if he just gave me the chance he'd love me. My plan is to marry him someday."

"What if he's a jerk in real life?" Bridget pondered, smirking.

"Harry Potter a jerk? No way."

"You never know," Bridget shrugged. "Even if he is gorgeous I don't think I could get past the attitude."

"He's not a jerk," the stranger sighed, closing her eyes in ecstasy.

"Bridget what are you doing? Who's this?" Hermione asked, coming up to stand next to Bridget. The book was still clutched in her hand-no surprise-and her face was set in concentration. She'd found her vacation reading.

"Just discussing whether or not Harry Potter's an ass. We're looking at his future wife, you know," Bridget said dryly. Hermione smiled, picking up on the joke instantly.

"He's married, though!" Hermione exclaimed. Bridget narrowed her eyes.

_"What?"_ the fan girl hissed. She glared intently at Hermione, leaning forward in interest.

"Yes, recently, too-"

"How do you know!?" she demanded, clearly in denial.

"Well, actually," Bridget interjected, cutting of whatever Hermione's response was going to be. "We just met him. See those two boys over there? Red hair, standing next to the brunette? Harry Potter's behind them."

"No way. Prove it!"

Bridget's expression turned into a smirk, ignoring the wary one on Hermione's. Who cared that Harry was trying to stay hidden as long as possible? It didn't matter that Hermione was sending her warning glances.

"Aiden!" Bridget called. Her brother looked in her direction and she motioned for him to move. He obliged in confusion, not noticing that he'd just let the whole shop get full view of Harry Potter.

"Oh my God!" was the noise that rang throughout the whole building as girls of all shape and size trampled their way through the clutter towards a very pissed and scared looking Potter.

"Was that really necessary?" Hermione hissed. Bridget shrugged, turning her face away from the group of screaming girls.

"He deserves it. Maybe he can find a new wife from that lovely patch of aspiring women."

"You know he only wants you," Hermione countered, placing a hand on her hip. Bridget raised an eyebrow, shaking her head.

"Then he'll just have to explain that to the future Mrs. Potters of the world, won't he?"

"What are you going to do?" Hermione inquired, shaking her head.

"Me? What do you mean?"

"About Harry and the babies."

"I'm going to be their mum, Hermione," Bridget sighed. Without realizing it, she placed a hand on her stomach, a frown forming on her once amused face. "Harry can do whatever he wants. It's not going to be about him anymore."

"Anymore?"

"What's the point?" Bridget cried. "He's got too much on his agenda to bother with kids and with the prophecy…I can't handle worrying about him anymore. Maybe it is better if we spend some time apart."

"Are you crazy? Spend some time apart? You can't break up with him!"

"It doesn't have to be like that," Bridget protested, running a hand through her hair. "Harry has to focus on the war. Even if he won't live through it that doesn't mean he's going to just not do anything. I can't be a part of him anymore. I can't follow him where he's going and I think I have to focus on me."

"You can't do that with Harry? You're married to him, Bee. This is crazy talk. You can't just…give up!" Hermione exclaimed, keeping her voice just above a whisper. She spoke fast and furiously, her mouth running faster than her mind.

"I'm not giving up," Bridget denied. "I'm just learning how to be a mum. I'm just going to take life as it comes. And if Harry wants to be a part of that then great! But if he doesn't…then that's fine too."

"Bridget you spent the whole year waiting for this. I can't believe you're willing to just let it go. You fought so hard to be with him."

"I'm not in school anymore. I guess I just know we weren't supposed to be together. This wasn't what the fates had planned."

"Shut up," Hermione snapped, her voice cracking. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply before speaking again.

"I don't know what to say to you, to make you change your mind. You can't just separate yourself from him. The final battle is approaching. Perhaps you should use the time you have left."

"Oh, Hermione," Bridget moaned. "I don't think we have any time left."

As she spoke the truth was shown, for both the girls knew that as soon as they returned home the war would go into full throttle. This vacation was just an illusion, a silly escape to put off the inevitable. In just a few days they would be returning home and all those happy moments would fade.

War brought destruction and loss and the five friends were right in the middle of it. They were in a calm before the storm, the eye being Harry Potter. There was bomb, ticking away inside of him and soon the time would be all out and everything would end. They were going to lose, fail, fall.

Bridget turned her eyes to the boy being mauled by crazy girls, each one of them unaware of the truth of the situation. She stepped forward, leaving Hermione behind as she walked out of the store, the door slamming in the wind on her way out.

She was Bridget Potter, damn it, and she would _not_ let the world become like that of her dreams. It was time to focus on life after death and let Harry deal with the present state of things. Meanwhile, Bridget had a plan.

--

"I can't believe you did this to me," Harry muttered grumpily, a full pout in his face. They were back in the car now, slowly inching closer to their destination.

"I hate traffic," Ron complained, ignoring Harry's comments about what had happened in the store. It had taken hours to pry him away from all those people and then another fifteen minutes to find a quiet restaurant for dinner.

"It was either this or fans," Hermione responded, slowing to a stop behind the cars. "At we know we're close."

"We do?" Ron questioned, leaning over Bridget and looking out he window with interest.

"Get off, Ron," Bridget chided, slapping him away.

This banter continued for the rest of the car drive, causing Hermione to almost crash quite a few times. Aiden, Ron, and Bridget seemed to have gotten over the awkwardness and persisted to joke and fool around as much as possible in the limited space.

Harry, however, stayed quiet. He did not respond to any of Ron's jibes, did not mind when he was squished under the weight of his friend as Aiden leaned back and shoved him. He tried to close his eyes and fall asleep, but it was difficult to concentrate on anything restful when he could hear Bridget's voice loud and clear.

Eventually, the they made it to the hotel room. It was sunset and they could see the beach from their room, the colors of the sky melding happy with the blue of the ocean.

"How romantic," Hermione cooed, leaning against the doorframe as she gazed happily upon the horizon.

Bridget nodded in agreement, the light flickering off her own blue eyes that danced with thought. Perhaps, after the war, she could bring her kids here and they could grow up in this beautiful place. America may be tainted by crazy girls, hopeless franchise, and pollution, but how could anything this beautiful be that bad?

Besides, Voldemort didn't bother America. If Bridget could escape here her life would become that much simpler. The future looked a bit brighter. She could start over here and move on, just as Harry would want for her.

For now, Bridget closed her eyes and lay on the bed. She would return to England soon, anxious to finish the war. The outcome didn't so much matter anymore, with the prospect of America and the prophecy evident in her mind.

Her life had fallen so pieces and Harry had stitched it back together, but now it was time for Bridget to make her own thread.


	102. Through With You

**Disclaimer: **Potterverse belongs to Rowling

* * *

The LA hotel was beautiful, but Harry didn't notice. He probably wouldn't have noticed anything, even if it was right in front of his face. His mind had been spinning in all different directions, traveling to far away places, alternate universes, futures, and pasts. He couldn't connect any thoughts, couldn't manage to find clarity, couldn't bring himself to accept the things he needed to.

He wondered, if they returned back to England, things would turn normal again. Maybe he'd wake up in his bed at the Burrow and his surreal adventures in America will become just memory. The crazy girls, the long car drives, the pregnant wife. Who's to say what is real and what isn't anyway? Harry was sure this couldn't be real. He was-

Harry was bullshitting himself.

The truth was, Harry had been trying to tell himself lies for days now. He'd been trying to convince himself that everything Bridget had told him wasn't true. He'd been trying to make sense of his life, what he should do, what would become of the things he left behind. He figured that it was time he come to his senses and try to make sense of things. He figured it was time to just accept it.

So, Harry was going to be a father.

His stomach lurched uncomfortably, his heart wrenching, and for a moment his brain shut down. Then, it started up again, processed the news and weaved it in. That was all there is to it, he decided. Of course, it meant that everything had changed. Everything he thought he believed in had went down the drain, all those plans he'd created disappeared. In order to continue, he had to wipe his slate clean and start over.

Clearly, the way Harry had approached things before wasn't going to work anymore. He'd accepted his death and told everybody to move on. He wasn't sure that was going to work anymore, though, and in reality wasn't sure it would have ever worked in the first place. If he put himself in his friends' place he couldn't imagine forgetting himself either. They'd been through too much, created too many memories, and had spent too much time together. Harry wasn't a dream that could just be forgotten after a few days.

So what were you supposed to do when you knew you were going to die, that the dark side would win? Harry had thought he should take advantage of the life he'd already been given. Harry had thought he should just to what he could while he was alive and then embrace the death as it came. He'd lost his hope in survival and focused on utilizing the time he had left.

Perhaps, he was discovering, this was not the right way of doing things.

He'd imagined over and over again what life would be like with children, two beautiful beings that belonged to him and Bridget. He'd considered the possibility of living with them, sending them to school, making their life as normal as possible. He'd toyed with the idea of being the best father in the world, making up from the parents he'd always lacked as a child.

Harry knew what it was like to feel as if part of him was missing. He'd always felt incomplete with a mother and father, like he'd missed out on some great experience everybody talked about. How could he do that to somebody else? He didn't want to be the sort of father that, even though it wasn't his fault, would never be there for his kids. Voldemort would not tear apart his family any more than he already had.

The Potters would not be destined for brokenness. History would not repeat itself. Harry felt this more strongly than anything he'd ever felt before. The anger and determination built up inside of him as time passed. His mind examined the prophecy in every form it could, searching for the loophole he had to believe existed.

The new of Bridget's pregnancy had shocked him, shaken him, and then steadied him. Harry Potter would not just accept his death any longer. Harry Potter would fight for his life. He would not give up as he had come so close to doing. He would not die, would do everything he could to prevent his death. He would live to see his children, to love them, and he would keep their mother alive in the process.

In the end, as long as the four of them were together Harry knew he would be content. He promised himself this. He would not fail. If he was going to be Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, than he might as well act like it.

Harry inhaled, closing his eyes as he stood up from the couch he was sitting on. It was time for action. His eyes scanned the room carefully, searching for the familiar blonde hair, or the striking blue eyes. Instead, he found his three friends. Bridget was nowhere in sight. Had he really not noticed her absence?

Guilt crept into Harry's bloodstream, his skin reddening from shame. He could scarcely believe the way he'd treated her. It wasn't fair to place all the blame on her, when he knew that the whole mess was his fault too. Harry cut his brain off, though. He refused to call their situation a mess any longer. He was thankful for the pregnancy, exited for the babies.

They'd be a normal family soon, Harry convinced himself, just as soon as he found Bridget and apologized.

"Where is she?" he asked, his voice cracking. All eyes snapped up to his, each one carefully gauging his reaction.

"You're going to talk to her?" Ron voiced, his confusion evident. Harry nodded slowly, preparing his ego for the inevitable drop.

"I'm going to apologize."

"Good," Hermione said, smiling. She closed the book she was reading before speaking again. "She said she was going for a walk on the beach."

"You aren't going to yell anymore, are you?" Aiden questioned, his eyes narrowed. Harry sighed, wishing he didn't have to deal with older brothers. How could it be that even after all this time Aiden still didn't trust him?

"No. I have to go find her now."

Harry left quickly, too impatient to wait for the muggle elevator and flying down the stairs. His feet pounded against the floor, causing many eyes to turn in his direction. He took the back door out of the hotel, kicking off his shoes as his feet hit the warm sand. He stopped and gazed at the beach for a moment, relaxing at the sound of waves.

It did not take long for him to find her. She was walking along the water, slow and steady as she traveled. She looked beautiful next to the perfect blue waters and setting sky. Her hair blew widely in the wind, her legs long and inviting. Looking closely, Harry was could barely see the widening of her stomach. Soon, it would become obvious she was pregnant. Harry couldn't believe he hadn't caught on sooner.

His legs took off faster then ever before as he chased after her, his feet stumbling in the sand. Occasionally, he was travel to close to the water and create a large splash, dampening his jeans. He didn't call after her, not wanting to startle her or scare her off. He knew she wouldn't be too willing to speak with him.

Once he was able to, he grabbed her wrist, taking heavy breaths and long moments to regain his composure. She stared at him in confusion, her mouth hanging open as she sized him up. Her expression was dangerous, careful and reclined, but ready to explode at any moment. Harry spoke as quickly as he could.

"I'm sorry."

"I know," she responded, her voice quiet. A wave crashed and covered their feet in foam. Harry blinked, his glasses sliding off his nose for a moment.

"You-"

"Let's sit down," she suggested, stepping back a few paces and sitting herself comfortably in the sand. They were far enough away from the water now that it didn't touch them any longer and they were in no danger of having to move anytime soon. Harry didn't know which way the tide was moving, but he supposed Bridget wouldn't care in the end.

"I-"

"Should let me talk first," Bridget interrupted, raising an eyebrow. Her expression was solemn, her eyes hesitant. Harry's face crinkled in confusion, but he closed his mouth obediently, preparing himself for whatever Bridget had decided.

For, in the end, he knew Bridget would do what she wanted. She was the one carrying those babies, and she was the one who would decide what they would do with them in the end. The power was in her hands. Harry could argue and bicker and throw fits all he wanted, but if their ideas clashed than hers would end up on top. Harry couldn't really fight that. He knew how all these stories about unplanned pregnancies went.

He was in the losing pool.

"Okay."

"I know it's still a shock for you, Harry," she started, reaching out to him. "You've only known for a couple of days and I understand that it takes time. The thing is, I've had time. I've known for a while and I know it was wrong to keep it from you, but this is where we are. I can't afford to dwell on the past.

"I need to find stability. I need to grow out of this childish phase I'm in and especially after I told you, I've found clarity. Everything was unsure and…well…things are different now, I guess. I can't explain it and I won't but…

"The point is I'm keeping these kids. I've decided that I want to be their mother. I don't know a lot about the future, but I do know that no matter what I am going to be the best mother I can and I'm going to raise these kids to my best ability. I don't care what that means for you, but I think we need to figure that out now.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say is that I'm going to be a mother, Harry, and I need to know now if you're going to be a father. Either way is fine, I just need to know how things stand."

Harry stared at Bridget for a moment, a million things running through his head. He realized then that she thought he didn't want the kids. She thought he was going to runaway, pretend that she wasn't pregnant. Harry couldn't bring himself to do that, though, and he wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know.

He wanted so many things from her, to give to her, to be with her. There were so many things he wanted to say, to make her understand about him and the way he felt. He wanted to face this problem head on, but he was scared. He was confused and he was scared and he just wanted to be a kid again.

Things were so much less difficult before magic got involved. Before Bridget got involved. Sometimes, he was learning, the greatest things came at the highest cost.

"I've never had parents before," Harry murmured, digging his toes into the sand. "How can I be a good dad if I don't know how?"

"I don't know," Bridget responded, hugging her knees to her chest.

"I've never had parents," Harry repeated, struggling to keep his voice slow and steady. "I don't know the first thing about being a father, but I can't help but want it. I've done a lot of thinking too, Bee, and…I want to give these kids what I never had."

"It's not going to be easy," she informed him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Harry nodded.

"I know that. I'm not expecting easy."

"Then what are you expecting?"

Harry paused for a moment, eyes twinkling happily. "A family."

Bridget sighed, scooting closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her, allowing her head to rest comfortably on his shoulder. She stared into the distance, a different women than he used to know. Now that the truth had come out, circumstances changed, Harry was sure things would never be the same.

As opposed to what change usually brought upon his life, Harry could only see good coming out of this one. There was no ominous feeling in his stomach when he thought of the children that would come. Sure, there was fear and excitement, but this was not something he would let be ruined. Above else, it would be his children that he would fight for.

"I'm sorry for the things I said to you. I was just…"

"It's alright," Bridget responded, offering him one of her brilliant smiles. The tension in Harry's muscles released. She'd forgiven him. Now, there was only one matter left to discuss.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

She didn't respond at first, and for a moment he wondered she she'd heard him. It wasn't like Bridget to waste time on thinking, but rather she spoke quickly. Her words were rarely edited, though she still managed to be careful with the information she released. For a girl who had a lot to hide, she had even more to say.

"I was scared. I knew this would happen and I didn't want to complicate things anymore than they should be," she explained, shrugging.

"It shouldn't be like that," Harry muttered, his breathe hitting Bridget's cheek softly. She rolled her eyes, shoving him playfully.

"Harry."

"I mean it," he said, his voice strong and determined. His eyes were set in a glare, his teeth clenched. "I want you to be able to tell me things."

"I do tell you things," Bridget protested, smiling.

"You shouldn't have to be afraid to do so, though. We fight, but I love you and-"

Bridget cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips. Harry stopped, eyeing her carefully. She was chewing casually on her lip, her eyes alit with mischief. Carefully, she stood up and offered her hand. Harry took it willingly, following her as they walked down the beach together.

"I trust you," she told him after a moment of silence. His eyes were watching the sunset intensely and he didn't turn to face her when he spoke.

"Do you? Because sometimes I wonder."

"I know," Bridget sighed, squeezing his hand. "I'm not perfect and I know that. I know we aren't perfect and I know we have a lot to work on."

"I'm ready," Harry stated, finally bringing his eyes to her. "I'm ready to work on it. I'm ready to fight."

"It'll be okay, then?" she asked, bringing her hand to her stomach. Harry smiled, placing his own hand on top of hers. They stood for a moment, soaking each other in.

"I can't promise that," he started. "But I'm still not giving up."

Bridget pressed her lips against his, thankful for the end of their fight. Nothing really had been resolved, though, but she knew that as long as she kept her head things would work out in the end. She could make the best of the situations life threw at her.

And so would Harry.


	103. Easier to Be

Normalcy was a fickle thing, especially for the Potter family. They struggled at first that summer, trying to find balance and support. Eventually, they'd gotten into a temporary cycle, the beginning of a life with little direction and all determination. They stayed at the Burrow, just like they had before vacation, which seemed to please Missus Weasley despite their worries. With the war underway it wasn't like anybody stayed around too long anyway. Harry was often out fighting, having not even bothered finding a job in the way Ron and Hermione had.

"I found a job," Bridget informed Ron, pulling her coffee off the counter and following him out the door and towards the sidewalk. They were both busy people these days, but Bridget had begged Ron to set time aside for a few hours so they could talk. She missed being able to clear her head with Ron and was in dire need of some company. Harry was out on a mission for the order and would not be back for a few days.

"That's good," Ron replied, sipping on his own drink. The air was brisk for a summer day, but the atmosphere was pleasant in the small muggle town. Unlike in the wizarding world, Ron and Bridget were normal and no heads turned to look at them when they passed by on the streets.

"It's not much. I actually work at that bookstore right across from the café. I don't really want a steady job, as silly as that sounds," she explained, glancing briefly behind her to see the small store in which she would be spending most of her time from now on.

"I can understand that," Ron agreed, nodding. "You aren't angry that Harry won't let you in the order?"

"No," Bridget shrugged. "I can't really do that much. I'm pregnant and it just isn't worth the risk."

"I suppose you're right. Harry probably works better knowing you're safe anyway," Ron concluded, grinning as he placed a hand on her stomach. Indeed, Bridget was very pregnant. She was showing now more than ever and growing each day. By now the press had already gotten a hold of the information. They'd been worried about Voldemort finding at for a while, but in the end nothing happened. The news was old and eventually people stopped talking.

"Yes," Bridget laughed, nodding. "It is better this way. That's why I wanted a small job. I can choose the hours and it isn't much strain."

"The perfect fit," Ron commented idly. Bridget grinned, flashing a row of white teeth and nudging her friend suggestively.

"In more than one ways."

"What are you going on about?" Ron demanded, catching the mischievous look in Bridget's eyes. She'd planned something, had probably spent far too much time alone, and was now here to tell him all about what she'd come up with. It was clear to Ron now that she hadn't planned this outing for nothing.

"I bought a house."

"You what?" Ron exclaimed, choking on his drink. He doubled over, taking at least a minute to regain composure. Bridget sat and watched him, a tentative smile on her face. There was hesitancy in her eyes, an anxious line deepening in her forehead. Her hand rubbed her stomach idly, thinking on its own.

"We can't live in the Burrow forever, Ron," she murmured, staring at the ground in nervousness.

"We?" Ron choked, his voice cracking awkwardly. A few people had paused to watch the fighting couple, disrupted by their loud voices and high notes.

"It's a house for the four of us. Aiden said he had made other plans, or else I would have invited him too. Don't worry, it's not very big, but it's…it's just perfect."

"How?" Ron cried. "How is buying a house without anyone's consent perfect?"

"It's a decent size and I figure this way it'll be easier to pay rent and…" Bridget faltered, sensing the faults in her plan. She hadn't though she'd bought the house on whim, but now talking to Ron she wasn't quite sure.

"It's not like any of us are really home that often. We were all perfectly fine-"

"No we weren't!" Bridget argued. "Your mum is great, but we needed to leave. This way, we can all live together. Even when some of us are gone others are here."

"Have you even told Harry?" Ron sighed, running a hand through his hair. It stuck up on ends, mirroring the way he felt inside.

"It's going to be a surprise for when he comes home. I hope you and Hermione will be settled by then."

Ron groaned, staring at his friend in concern. He knew she was lonely and worried without Harry around, pregnant and hormonal, and probably needed Ron to say yes. He just wasn't sure how good of an idea this was. It might make sense in Bridget's head, but he couldn't seem to comprehend owning a house.

"Bridget-"

"Will you at least come see it?"

"Do I have a choice?" Ron sighed, finally giving in. Bridget grinned, clapping her hands together before grabbing his hand and wobbling off towards the direction of a friendly looking neighborhood.

"Nope. Come on!"

Ron watched as Bridget fumbled for the keys to the house, carefully examining its exterior. It wasn't incredibly large, but Ron wouldn't call it small either. There was a garden window in which Ron could peer into and see the kitchen, images of Bridget cooking delicious meals for the house flooding his brain. Finally, Bridget clicked the lock and opened the door, bearing the house for all it was worth.

"It's nice," Ron admitted, scanning the room. It was a small living room, complete with a muggle television and a few other appliances. A bathroom and closet completed the first floor, only the necessities provided. There was a staircase leading up to a loft, leading towards a hallway where Ron could see four doors.

"There are only three bedrooms, the fourth room is a bathroom, so…"Bridget trailed off, biting her lip.

"Isn't three all we need?" Ron questioned, wrinkling his nose. Bridget shook her head.

"No. We need a room for Harry and I, one for the kids, one for you, and then one for Hermione. But I guess the two of you can stay together or else you can have the loft."

Ron paused to consider this, walking upstairs to survey the area. Bridget sat down on the couch, waiting patiently for Ron to finish his analysis. She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, tracing the patterns on it while listening for any hints to as to what Ron could be thinking.

"It's perfect," he finally declared, falling onto the seat next to her and exhaling. "How long did it take you to buy this?"

"Not long," Bridget stated. "I knew it was perfect the moment I saw it. I can't wait for us all to live here together."

"And you think Hermione and Harry will be okay with this, especially without you telling them first?" Ron brought up, a hesitant look of worry in his eyes. Bridget winced, shaking her head.

"I don't know."

"Oh, Bridget," Ron laughed, wrapping an arm around you. "You're lucky we love you so much, stupid girl."

"Shut up, Ronald."

Bridget smiled, standing up and motioning for Ron to do the same. She led him upstairs and began a more detailed tour of the house. It was clear she'd been thinking about this for a while and was about to burst from excitement. Ron was surprised she'd been able to keep it a secret for this long. A house was a big thing and Bridget was particularly ecstatic about this one.

"And this is the babies' room," she concluded, opening the door and presenting a light blue room. She'd already decorated and furnished this room, knowing that nobody else in the house would much care what it looked like. There was a small window on the east side, letting light shine on a wicker changing table. Two identical cribs stood on the west side, giving the children a view of the whole room. There was a tasteful rug on the floor and the empty walls were scattered dressers, rocking chairs, and toys.

"Wow. You really put some time into this," Ron noted in awe, running his hand over one of the cribs.

"I didn't have much else to do. I didn't want to get a job until I knew this house was for sure."

"Well what if I don't want to live with you?" Ron quipped, only to receive a slap from Bridget.

"You're a jerk."

"I know," Ron paused, soaking in the room, so fresh and new. "Have you decided on names yet?"

"Yes," Bridget responded, giggling. "Rose and William."

"Very cute," Ron complimented. "I can't believe your pregnant."

"You've known for a while now, Ron," Bridget jabbed, rolling her eyes.

"I know, I know," he defended, holding up his hands. "It's just weird, is all. I never thought Harry-"

"Me either, but he's so exited," Bridget laughed.

"Tell me about it."

"He's not around a lot, but when he is it's…it's amazing. He's been really great."

"Harry's a good guy like that," Ron agreed, nodding. Bridget smiled shyly, opening the door and exiting the room with a wink.

"Time to show Hermione."

--

"You really should have consulted one of us first, Bee," Hermione sighed, biting her lip as she examined the house. She wasn't as angry as Bridget had anticipated, causing the girl to almost burst with excitement.

"What's the fun in that, Hermione?" she laughed, slapping her friend on the back. "It's just all so perfect in so many ways."

"I see that," Hermione responded, shaking her head. She knew was Bridget's intentions were with buying the house. It was no secret that with Harry off on Order business so often Bridget was lonely. She spent hours worrying and wasted so much of her time wrapped up in her own head. Hermione was actually pleased to find out that Bridget had gotten herself a job, however miniscule it was. It was nice to know her friend had busied herself with something.

All the same, Hermione knew that having her friends around more often in their own house would work wonders on Bridget's attitude. That alone made it extremely difficult to chide the girl too much on her decision. Also, the house was quite nice and paying bills would be a whole lot easier with the four of them. It almost was a perfect fit; Bridget wasn't exaggerating the millions of times she'd say it so far.

"So what's the final decision?" Bridget asked, crossing her fingers. Hermione paused, rolling her eyes.

"Can we move in right away?"

"Of course!" Bridget squealed, wrapping her arms around Hermione and burying her head into the girl's frizzy brown hair.

"Stop-ug-get off!" Hermione protested. "You're going to hurt the babies."

"Stupid babies," Bridget grumbled, stepping back and frowning as she placed a hand on her stomach.

"Don't let Harry hear you saying that," Hermione warned. "He's super daddy."

"What Harry doesn't know can't hurt him."

--

It was raining as Bridget lay awake at bed that night. It had been three weeks since they'd bought the house and by now everybody, even Harry, was settled. Of course, Harry had left quickly after accepting his new abode, but he seemed pleased to even have one. The rain beat angrily against the window, making Bridget feel even more lonely than before. It had been better known that at least Ron or Hermione would be near by at any given moment, but even they had lives to jobs to get to. It was a rare occasion when all four residents were home.

"What are you doing awake?" came a voice from the doorway and Bridget jumped up in bed, surprised to see her husband leaning against the threshold.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, making a movement to crawl out of bed. Harry laughed, motioning for her to stay in bed. Instead, he crawled next to her, placing a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

"This can't be healthy for the babies. Maybe you should-"

"Shut up," Bridget murmured, silencing him with a kiss. He could feel the grin through her lips, joy bubbling up inside of him.

"I repeat, what are you doing awake?"

"I couldn't sleep," Bridget shrugged, pointing towards the window. "The rain seems especially loud tonight."

Harry frowned, catching the excuse. He wasn't one to believe much of Bridget's offhand excuses. He'd known her long enough to tell when things were not always alright. However, he also knew there was no use in fighting it. Bridget would keep her mouth shut when she felt she had too, and as long as Harry could sense it wasn't something too serious he let her.

"How are your nightmares?" he pressed anyway. Bridget sighed, leaning back ahead the headboard. Harry placed a comforting hand around her, tracing circles on her shoulder with his thumb.

"Redundant," she replied.

"How so?"

"Ever since we got married they've just been the same. It's not even that exiting anymore. Some of them are just plain weird," she elucidated.

"Is that good or bad?" Harry wondered.

"I don't know enough about them to be sure," Bridget responded. It was silent for a few moments, the only noises that of the rain _pitter patter_ against the window. "I missed you."

"You too. I wish I could be here for you, but…"

"I understand," Bridget promised. "I knew it was going to be like this, didn't I?"

"And you're handling it very well," Harry complimented with a light chuckle.

"Thank you," Bridget chirped, wiggling her eyebrows. She brought her lips to his once again.

"Get some sleep, Bee."

"When do you have to leave again?" she questioned, ignoring his suggestions.

"Soon," Harry confessed, the light in his eyes fading. "I want to do as much as I can before the babies come. I want to be here for them-"

"And not for me?" Bridget interrupted, her voice cracking. "I need you too."

"Oh Bridget," Harry cooed, placing a lock of blonde behind her ear. "You're doing great. I promise things will be different soon. Just have some patience."

"Have I ever given you the impression that I was a patient person?" Bridget snorted. Harry shook his head, his laughter ringing out throughout the room. He slouched in the bed, covering most of his body with the comforter and placing an arm on Bridget's stomach.

"It grows bigger everyday."

"I don't think you're supposed to tell girls that, Harry," Bridget scoffed.

"Every time I see it my heart burst with joy."

"Sap," Bridget accused.

But the truth was, hers did too.


	104. Here We Go Again

Bridget groaned, opening her eyes to the light pecking of Hedwig, offering a letter for her to open. She smiled faintly, wiping her eyes and gently taking the envelope from the bird's outstretched leg. It hooted, nipping her ear before flying off again, probably in search of breakfast. Bridget placed the letter on the table, not bothering to look at it as she jumped up to get ready for her day. After a shower she got dressed, smiling as she was forced to expand her clothes to fit her stomach.

She was coming along quite nicely, visiting the healers regularly. She didn't know much about pregnancy, but she'd been promised many times that things were developing perfectly. There were to be no complications with the baby and she was doing a great job of taking care of herself so far.

Of course, things were still difficult. Harry was gone most of the time, Ron and Hermione also dreadfully busy. However, Harry's birthday had just passed. He'd been working for the order on the actual today, but later than evening they were all coming together for a party. Even Aiden, who Bridget had not seen in ages due to his demanding activities, would be coming for a visit. Excitement bubbled inside Bridget as she made her bed, an extra jump in her step at the thought of seeing her husband again.

"Knock, knock," Hermione called from the doorway, smiling as she slipped inside the room. "Let me help."

"Thanks," Bridget responded, offering her the comforter. Hermione shooed Bridget away, claiming she shouldn't be working so hard during the pregnancy and finished the bed herself. Bridget fiddled with the hem of her shirt, patiently waiting for Hermione to finish before she told Bridget whatever she came in here to tell.

"Are you exited?" she questioned casually, smiling. Bridget nodded.

"I just want to see that he's safe again."

"Me too," Hermione agreed with a curt nod. "I know you worry more than all of us, though."

"It's hard, not knowing," Bridget explained. Visions of her nightmares would frequently play through her head, each one of them showing Harry dying in some way or another. However, she kept in mind the last dream she'd had about life without Harry. She'd become strong in his absence, creating life were she could find little to live for. Things had changed in the time since she'd graduated from school. Bridget truly felt like an adult now, responsible for the first time in her life.

"How are your dreams?" Hermione continued to ask, smoothing out the comforter.

"Consistent. The same things over and over, but I've…grown used to it, I suppose you could say," Bridget shrugged, licking her lips and placing a hand on her stomach. Hermione smiled, switching to the other side of the bed. She carefully fixed the last side, sitting down on the finished product and staring into the distance.

"Good. I'm really proud of you," Hermione confessed, eyes watery as she offered a smile. Bridget raised an eyebrow, chuckling lightly under her breath.

"For what?"

"You've come a long way, I suppose. You've changed for the better and you aren't the same girl you were when I met you."

"Thanks," Bridget whispered, blushing. She ran a hand through her hair, gazing happily out the window. Hermione fiddled with her thumbs, awkwardly looking around the room. "Do you know-"

"What's this?" Hermione interrupted, picking up the letter Bridget had received that morning. She leaned over, watching as Hermione's hands turned over the letter, searching for a return address.

"It came this morning. I don't know," Bridget explained, taking it from Hermione. She ran her fingers over it. Usually Bridget would have opened the letter by now. What if it was from Harry? She knew the boy's handwriting though, could tell when he'd been near something and she was almost one hundred percent sure he'd never touched this. She didn't know who it was from, and while it gave no indication that there was anything sinister going on Bridget couldn't help but feel wary.

"Are you going to open it?" Hermione pressed, curiosity burning inside of her. Bridget didn't know many people outside of their little group. There would be nobody sending her strange, blank letters.

"I'll wait. Maybe when Harry gets here. It's probably for him anyway," she brushed it off, shaking her head.

"What if it's important?" Hermione pointed out, holding up a finger. Bridget opened her mouth, only to be interrupted by the doorbell ringing. She smiled, jumping up and walking towards the door, thankful for the excuse to change the subject. Hermione sighed, slowly following her.

"That must be Aiden. Oh, I've missed him!" Bridget cried, running downstairs and placing the letter on the coffee table before opening the door to greet her brother. He smiled as he saw her, and she wasted no time in embracing him in a hug.

"Hey, Bee," he greeted. She grinned, squeezing him close.

"I missed you. I should make you come by more often," she declared, smirking happily. He mussed up her hair, causing it to fall lazily over her face.

"Where's Potter?" he questioned, looking around the room after greeting Hermione and Ron. His eyebrows her furrowed intently, and the thought of Harry had completely distracted him for a moment. Bridget wondered vaguely why this was, but did not waste brain power analyzing him. It was sometimes best just to let things go.

"He'll be here. He's not known for his punctuality," Bridget teased. Hermione laughed leading everybody into the kitchen, were Ron was slaving away over the stove. Ron had never been much of a cook before, but he'd recently grown attached to the hobby. Somehow, he'd landed himself with enough spare time to give his mother a run for her money.

"Bridget, you forgot to clean off the kitchen table!" Hermione chided, waving her wand and swiping the books and papers off the table and into a bag. Bridget made a grunting noise, leaping towards her things.

"I had those organized! Now it's ruined!"

"Maybe you shouldn't have organized them in the living area, then," Hermione scolded, frowning. She'd been the bookworm before, but after Bridget had taken the job at the bookstore she'd been hording books and papers left and right. She tried to read them, but even with the most amount of free time out of all of them she never got around to it. They all became projects, probably never to be finished until she was an old lady.

"It's not like the company's anything special," Bridget scoffed. "Just Aiden."

"I should be offended, shouldn't I?" he sighed, sitting down at the table. Ron grinned, turning around and speaking for the first time.

"Just go with it, man. Can't tell you the amount of times I get insulted in a day. Be lucky you didn't agree to this."

"Oh, shush, Ron," Hermione chided. "You're just mad because Harry isn't around for your to beat at chess all the time."

"He'll be so proud to see you've taken after your mother!" Bridget exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"He won't be nearly as proud if he finds out I murdered his wife," Ron grumbled, turning back to the task at hand and stirring something in a pan. Aiden laughed loudly, his brown hair bouncing.

"If I were married to her I'd be more thankful than proud, Ron," Aiden quipped, smirking. Bridget scowled, slapping him upside the head. He grumbled, rubbing his hair and causing it to stick up awkwardly.

"Why does everybody always pick on me?" Bridget wined, but there was no chance for anybody to respond. She could hear the door clicking from the other room, the handle turning slowly and then the small creak as it opened. Bridget's breath hitched as she turned to face the entry hall, eyes bright as she gazed onto the tired body of Harry Potter.

"I'm home," he announced, dropping a bag and walking into the kitchen. Images of the future ran through Bridget's head, and in her own world there were twins coming to greet their father. She desperately wanted that to be a reality and she longed and hoped for Harry to live that long.

"Hey man," Aiden said, smiling politely.

"Good to have you home," Ron sighed from the stove, holding up a hand in greeting. Harry mimicked him, hugging Hermione as she mumbled about how happy she was he was safe. Then, he slowly turned to Bridget and pressed his lips against hers. She leaned into the kiss, not caring that everybody in the room was watching. She'd missed this so much, even Aiden didn't bother to chide her on the PDA.

"I miss you so much," Harry breathed into her ear, grinning blissfully as he gazed into her beautiful features.

"I love you," she responded, pressing her lips to his once again. He broke away quicker this time, placing a hand on her stomach.

"How are they?" he asked, affection lacing his tone. Bridget's heart couldn't help but burst at his fatherly attitude. She'd never dreamed this could happen. It was everything she wanted and more, despite the fact that he was rarely home and always in danger. It was moments like these that she could pretend none of that other world existed. With Harry, life was almost perfect.

"Wonderful. The doctor says things are going smoothly."

"Excellent!" Harry exclaimed, sitting down beside Aiden. "Now when's the food ready?"

"Patience," Ron ordered. "Give me five."

"Since when does Ron cook?" Harry inquired, eyebrow raised. Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes as she persisted to catch Harry up on everything he'd missed. They chatted for hours, only stopping to stuff food into their mouths. Harry was pleasantly surprised that Ron had inherited his skills from Missus Weasley. He missed the red-headed family, and made a mental note to visit them as soon as possible.

After they'd had their fill of catching up and having fun, Hermione found a moment to clear her throat and call the attention of the table towards herself. Bridget turned slowly, her fingers intertwined with Harry's. He squeezed her land lightly, a faint smile dancing at his lips as Hermione's eyebrow raised, nodding towards Bridget.

"I think you should open it now," she suggested.

"Open what?" Harry questioned, a frown forming on his face. Bridget opened her mouth, running a hand through her hair. She didn't know why the letter was such a big deal. She supposed it was because of everything that was going on with the war and such, but she couldn't help but want to brush it off. In any other situation it should have meant nothing.

"I got a letter this morning and I don't know who it's from," Bridget explained. Harry's face was dubious as he swallowed, his hand digging into his robes in what Bridget knew was him grabbing his wand.

"Let's open it then," Harry stated with no room to question. He'd grown to be something of a leader while away, gaining responsibility and authority that not even Bridget could deny. She'd lost the desire to argue with him anyway, and so without obligations she stood and grabbed the letter from the table.

"Can we try and not turn this into a huge deal?" she pleaded, licking her lips as she slowly ripped the envelope open. She kept her gaze off of it, though, instead focusing on her brother's expressionless face. He seemed to be the only one unconcerned, or even curious. He simply watched, waiting. Bridget's insides tumbled.

Inside the envelope, ironically enough, was another envelope. Confused, Bridget pulled it out and examined it quietly before finally placing it on the table, choking on her spit. Harry leaned over to see the small seal, holding it together, and his breath hitched. Hermione and Ron seemed to do the same, though considerably more subtle.

A green dark mark was stamped right in the middle of the letter, letting any reader know exactly who the author was. Bridget ran a hand through her hair, staring at in exasperation. She knew nothing good could come of this. She knew the answer was to ignore the letter, but how could she? Nobody knew what sort of words could be waiting for her. Bridget couldn't stand not knowing and what would it hurt anyway?

With a sudden impulse Bridget reached out and tore the seal, greedily opening the letter despite the protests of her friends. She could vaguely hear their voices in the background, begging her to just forget the letter and move on, but she ignored them. She had to know what the letter said, what the future was for her…

Time froze as her eyes quickly began scanning the letter. She dropped it, the voices of her friends fading as the letter fluttered to the floor. She stared straight ahead in shock, mouth open and eyes wide.

"What did it say?" Ron asked.

"He wants to meet," Bridget responded, her voice hoarse. She didn't bother with the details. She didn't bother to listen to the shouts going round the table. She'd heard this story before, seen it play out a million times. She knew all the details of the letter by heart now. The when's and where's didn't matter much anymore. All that mattered was what this meant.

Because Bridget had dreamt about this moment. It felt like ages ago that she'd had the dream, but she still remembered every bit. It was hard to forget dreams like these. It was hard to comprehend the reality of a dream coming true at all. Bridget was not a seer. She had no seer blood inside of her and never before had she been able to foretell the future.

But, Bridget remembered when she first learned about the dreams. She remembered Dumbledore explaining how sometimes they could be prophetic. Her dreams were silly then, not consistent with reality and so she hadn't thought much of it. Then…what had happened to cause this?

Bridget filtered through the dreams in her mind, categorizing them carefully as she figured out which ones where placed where. The dreams that went with this one were the worst ones, and even thinking about them caused Bridget to shudder. They consisted of Harry's death, or her running towards Voldemort, of their failure in the war.

And they had all happened after she'd gotten married, after she'd had sex, after she'd gotten pregnant.

"Are you going to go?" Hermione shrieked, and Bridget found it quite sill that she was so concerned with something as meaningless as whether or not she'd go. Bridget would think about that later. Right now there were more pressing matter.

Like, how her dreams were coming true. What that meant for her. What that meant for Harry.

There had to be something she could do to fix it…but Bridget could think of nothing. She couldn't really think, too stuck and fixated on where she was. One fact played through her head over and over, like a broken record.

If her dreams were coming true, that meant it would not be long before Harry was dead.

Bridget's breathe hitched, and she fell back a few steps, becoming the scared girl she once was. Hermione had thought she'd matured, but in reality she was much the same. Because without Harry she could see nothing…all those promises she'd made herself about being a strong person after him seemed to fade. She hadn't expected Harry to leave so soon…

Bridget didn't know if she could handle that.


	105. Now or Never

Bridget leaned forward, staring at the letter in anticipation. Tonight was the night. If she was going to go it would have to be now. All her friends, Harry, had warned her not do go. She'd only be playing into another one of Voldemort's traps. How could she not, though? She was curious, and the need to know the answers burned inside of her. It wasn't like she'd spoken to him since before she got married anyway. Things had changed after Christmas really.

This letter, him asking to meet her, well, that felt so much the same. It felt like the beginning of the year, when things were uncertain and feelings hidden. It felt like such a long time ago, and Bridget couldn't fathom why Voldemort was resorting back to these sort of things. She'd come such a long way without him. Especially since after the wedding Bridget didn't even think of herself as Voldemort's daughter anymore. She wasn't a part of that.

The thing was, if Bridget had moved on from her life with Voldemort, why did she want to follow him? Why did she want to meet him when there were so many reasons not to go? She hated that man, a poor excuse for a father, and she'd do anything to avoid him. At least, that's what she thought.

Perhaps it was the dreams having an affect on her. It was unsettling to know that she'd foreseen this somehow, and even more unsettling to realize what was supposed to come next. Above all, Bridget's strongest desire was to keep Harry alive, and if she was supposed to meet Voldemort tonight…who's to say Harry wouldn't die tonight as well? Bridget's heart wrenched at the thought.

It wasn't possible, was it? Harry was far away from Voldemort. He'd busied himself with Order business, leaving Bridget with a promise that he'd come back as long as she stayed away from Voldemort. It had hurt to lie to her husband again, but Bridget could not promise she wouldn't go. She couldn't take that chance.

She knew there were far more reasons to stay. For once, she was pregnant and getting more so everyday. She didn't know if Voldemort knew about the pregnancy, but she was sure he would not be happy about it. What if the whole purpose of their meeting was to ensure the babies wouldn't be born, or worse, to ensure they'd support him in their life? Bridget shivered at the thought of Voldemort being alive whilst her children were growing up.

What if she could stop it, though? What if Bridget could prevent Voldemort from killing Harry, prevent that scene from playing out in anything more than her head. In order to do that, though, she had to go. And she had to go quickly. It was the only thing that made sense in her head. She knew her friends would be angry at her choices, but what could they do? She led her own life. She could be strong…she could withstand anything Voldemort could throw at her.

With that thought in mind Bridget had made her decision. She didn't care what anybody else said. For tonight, they would just have to deal with the "Old Bridget" returning. After all, she wasn't that bad, was she? Bridget shook her head, breaking that train of thought. She snatched up the letter from the table and stormed up to her room, determination set in her mind.

She could stop this mess that was brewing underneath the surfaces. She had all the information that was needed in her hand and in her head. Not the jinx it-but what could go wrong? She was Bridget damn Potter and she would end this whole ordeal once and for all. They'd be mad at first, but they'd thank her in the end.

Bridget wasn't exactly sure what to bring with her on her little adventure, so she settled for an overly large cloak and her wand. She glanced at her potions set for a moment, wary of the fact that she _was_ pregnant and probably should be more careful than she was being. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to bring some of them…

No, Bridget decided it wasn't necessary. As for the pregnancy, the cloak sort of covered her large stomach and if he asked she'd just blow it off as nothing. Voldemort didn't need to know this little tidbit of her personal life. In fact, life would probably run a whole lot smoother if he _didn't_ know. So that was settled.

Feeling rush, Bridget ran down the stairs and hurried out the door. The letter was still crumbled and worn in her hand, her heart racing faster and faster by the minute. She didn't stop moving until she reached a little alley outside the house, where most apperation was done. When Bridget had bought the house she'd made sure there was a safe place for them to travel from.

Bridget, trying to slow down her mind, unfolded the letter and stared down at it, skipping over the pleasantries-if they could be called such-and down towards the instructions. Voldemort was terribly precise, and Bridget was lucky she'd made this decision so soon. She hoped she wasn't too late, though; dusk was falling.

"356 Hallow Way," she murmured, reading the address off the letter. She closed her eyes, focusing only on those numbers in her mind and with a pop she apperated.

]--[

Bridget swallowed, opening her eyes to gaze upon what appeared to be a small farm. She inwardly groaned, not yet feeling safe enough to make noise. Voldemort never was one to make things easy; he was probably hiding out somewhere in the fields.

The barn itself looked warn down. She figured it was safe to assume nobody had been there in quite some time. Surrounding the fading red building were miles and miles of corn fields. Of course, most of the corn had grown old and died, leaving sticky wet stalks drooping towards the ground. Bridget hoped she didn't have to go through that, and so with the best intentions she headed towards the barn.

Slowly, Bridget pushed open the door. It creaked loudly, causing a few birds hidden in bushes to rise and fly away. Bugs scampered by her feet, searching for a new hiding place. Dust lined the walls of the building, rust eating away at any metal and wood decaying from the inside out.

"Hello?" Bridget called attentively, eyes scanning the room for life. It smelt of death and damp hey, a lingering scent of animal droppings seeping through the air. Bridget wrinkled her noise, wondering why Voldemort would bring her to such a place. It was just his style, though, wasn't it? He loved making things difficult for other.

"I knew you would come. Master will be pleased," wheezed a voice from the shadows and not a moment later Peter Pettigrew stepped into the dim light. Bridget narrowed her eyes; she'd forgotten to scum that came along with her father. It was sort of expected to deal with him, but she was always thrown off by those that accompanied him.

_"You,"_ she hissed, voice low as she stepped forward. Wormtail grinned his stupid toothy grin, holding out his hand. Bridget jumped back, fearful of his intentions. The man-if he could be called such-laughed.

"Do not fear. I've not been ordered to hurt you."

"What are you doing here? Where is my father?" Bridget winced, hating that she could still call him that. "Or does this barn just feel like home to you, _rat?"_

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" Wormtail laughed. "Anybody could have found the letter and come here. I was instructed only to further inform you and you alone."

"How do you know nobody else is here?" Bridget challenged, hoping he would not be able to see through her bluff. She'd been an idiot. Harry owned an invisibility cloak; why didn't she bring somebody else? Coming alone was certainly not the brightest of ideas, but she couldn't go back now. She could never go back.

"There are spells to detect unwanted presences, or have you forgotten?"

"You're not powerful enough," Bridget scoffed.

"I have not been the only one to come here. Now, please, it's time to go."

"Go where?" Bridget questioned, looking around the room once more for any hidden passageways she might have overlooked. Wormtail clicked his teeth, growing impatient.

"Here!" he cried, once again holding his arm out. Bridget hesitantly stepped forward, eyeing him warily. Then, still very slowly, she took the envelope from his hand. He bowed slightly as he released it, causing Bridget to scowl as he disappeared into the shadows.

She slowly walked out of the barn, not turning her back on where Wormtail used to stand. Slowly, she closed the door, making sure to keep it from slamming. Silently, she finally turned to face the corn fields, having a sick feeling that they were in her future. With one final groan, Bridget opened the letter.

_Just go straight into the fields. You will not be lost, I assure you. Straight from the door of the barn. Do not turn left nor right. _

Bridget jumped, hearing a pop from inside the barn. A crow shouted to the skies, probably aware of the darkness that was seeming to impose on the area. Clouds covered any blue left in the sky and the sun was setting in the distance. The pop must have meant Wormtail had apperated, leaving Bridget alone with no choice but to continue.

And continue she did.

]--[

It had been ten minutes since Bridget started her journey. She knew it was a bad idea, but she'd shed her cloak. It kept getting caught in odd sticks and shrubberies and a wet garment wasn't much use to her anyway. She didn't know why the corn fields had to be so damp, but her shoes were soaked through by now. It was getting colder and colder as she kept going, though, deeper and deeper into the fields. Bridget regretted dropping her cloak almost five minutes after she'd done it.

Shivering, Bridget pulled out her wand and muttered a low _lumos_. The corn stalks hindered any light shedding on her path and it was getting difficult to navigate. How was she supposed to not get lost? Who was to say whether she was turning or staying straight? There was no path, like she had expected, but since when had Voldemort ever made anything easy?

It was getting colder and darker, almost eerily so. She swore she saw the dew turning to ice, crackling and falling at her feet. She shivered, swiping dirty hair out of her eyes. A hand was placed on her stomach, a feeble protection should anything come out at her. How much longer did she have to go on with this? As far as she could see there was no clearing ahead. Would he make her walk for miles? Surely he knew she couldn't do it. What was he plan? Was he distracting her?

No, Bridget shook her head. She'd seen the dreams. Quickening her pace, Bridget thought of them as she persisted on. If she wanted to save Harry she'd have to move quicker. Besides, she didn't want to keep her father waiting!

The further and faster she got the more it seemed to get colder. Surely temperatures didn't change this fast. Bridget frowned, stopping to catch her breath. She loved running, but it was a bit difficult when you were pregnant. She'd learned quickly that you aren't as able as you'd like to be when you're supporting extra life.

She breathed out, staring at her breath in front of her. She stepped forward and as her foot hit the ground she heard a familiar crack of ice. She squinted, gazing down upon the ground and up the cornstalks. The dew had frozen over, breaking and falling to the ground in a heap of destruction. Bridget's breath hitched as she looked around widely, wand in hand.

It was too late, though. She could see them approaching her now. Dementors. The sky was completely dark, the air freezing cold, and Bridget completely alone. Fear and desperation ran through her as she struggled to think of a happy memory, but all that came to mind were those dreams she kept having over and over again. She could remember each one perfect, back from the very beginning. She could see her betrayals and faults all laid out before her mind's eye, along with Harry's dead body.

Not even the thought of saving her husband could bring enough energy to force her into casting the spell. She couldn't be happy enough, was never strong enough, and was already tired from running. They were growing closer, closer, and forgetting her magic absolutely Bridget turned on her heel and ran in the other direction. It was the only escape she could think of, the only action her body would do.

Sure, there were only two dementors, but that was enough. She was weak; she never could have come here. Everybody would suffer because of this…Harry would fall and the prophecy would come true. Bridget had single-handedly ruined everything. So, with nothing else in mind she kept running. She knew she couldn't _outrun_ a dementor, but she could certainly hold off their soul sucking. If she were lucky she'd run into somebody.

Bridget didn't care if she wasn't running in the right direction. She'd get lost in the maze of corn, overcome by the sick smell of decaying plants. What would it matter once the dementors stole her soul? She'd gotten caught in his trap; Voldemort had outwitted her again, and now everything was lost. It was over. There was no happiness left.

Bridget coughed, collapsing towards the ground, that cold breath still just barely coming out of her lips. Her eyes clouded over, suddenly very sleepy. The last thing she saw was the dementors shadow coming upon her before a bright light overpowered and everything went black.


	106. A Mess to Be Made

Bridget groaned, squeezing her eyes tighter than they already were. She felt sore and had had the most horrible dream. It had thoroughly convinced her that going to see Voldemort was a bad idea and she fully intended to stay in bed until Harry returned. Unfortunately, the conditions of her bedroom would not allow that. Perhaps Hermione had turned down the heat, for Bridget was shaking with cold. Her limbs were numb and the lack of warmth was not aiding her aching muscles.

Slowly, Bridget opened her eyes, her senses slowly coming back to her as she realized that she was not in the comfort of her own bed, or even her own house. The events in the corn fields had not been a dream after all, and now Bridget lay alone and broken, a million thoughts running through her brain.

The last thing she remembered was an attack by dementors, but she didn't feel any different than before so obviously somebody had saved her. Bridget felt sick when she considered the fact that she couldn't save herself. If not for the help of somebody else, she would have become victim to their soul-sucking. Bridget felt like throwing up.

She didn't much have time to think of who could possible have helped her, for her brain quickly skipped to the next subject. She wasn't sure what sort of turmoil she'd been through since she blacked out, but it couldn't have been good; her body hurt too much. So, the remaining question was: What would happen to the babies?

Guilt sank in Bridget's stomach. She truly was an idiot and couldn't understand why she couldn't have just listened to her friends and stayed home. She'd not only risked her life that afternoon, but also the lives of her two children. She slowly hoisted herself into a sitting position, placing a hand on her stomach. They seemed okay to her, though she wasn't a doctor and therefore couldn't be sure. Bridget let the thought be pushed to the back of her mind temporarily, deciding to focus on more pressing [but no more important] matters.

Where was she? Bridget couldn't have traveled far. She was still in the corn fields, though a muddy clearing had been made. All around her was the musky smell of damp leaves and the sound of grasshoppers gone unseen. It was twilight, the sun having set over the horizon just moments ago. She was sitting in mud, her clothes torn and wet, dirt under her nails.

"You've awoken."

Bridget jumped; she recognized that voice. Slowly, she turned, only to face the red beady eyes of her father. She gulped, running a hand through her hair. Her stomach clenched together in fear and the danger sunk in. It was time.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes as she adjusted her position to face him. She wrapped her arms around her body, idly wondering where her wand went. She was surprised to find it in the pocket of her cloak, right where she left it. Subtly, she slipped her hand into the pocket and held tightly, reading to brandish the wood stick whenever the time called for it.

"Is it so strange for a father to want to see his daughter?" Voldemort questioned with a sly grin. His teeth were yellow, his eyes squinting awkwardly as he stared her down. Bridget rolled her eyes; she'd heard this so many times before. Once again, she was reminded of a time before Harry, a time where she would always succumb to Voldemort's plans.

With situations like these Bridget was overcome with so many familiar emotions of self-hatred. She never could like herself when she was around Voldemort, and always found herself growing like him when in his presence for too long. They were connected by blood, whether she liked it or not, and because of that he held some sort of hold on her. Even if she disconnected herself in every other way, Bridget could never truly separate herself from him. He was her father.

"For you, I'd say yes," she retorted, sighing. She expected anger to flash through his face, but Voldemort stayed complacent. He seemed content with the way things were going, which surprised Bridget. He was taking things so and carefully, a silent warning that he was about to lead up to something even more drastic than Bridget could have imagined. The insides of her stomach turned.

"Shame," he muttered, holding out his wand and fiddling with it. His long, pale, fingers seemed to dance along the wood, striking contrast to its dark shade. Bridget couldn't help but stare, entranced by the mind games he'd learned to play so well. Bridget was naïve for coming; though he was evil, Voldemort was more clever than she was on any day. Bridget was too impulsive for this dangerous game, never prepared for what anybody could throw at her. How she'd lived this long was a mystery.

"Did you set the dementors on me? I don't know what you're doing. Who…did you save me?" Bridget rambled, her brain spinning with questions. She couldn't figure out anything that was going on; she couldn't put the pieces together.

"I have better things to do with my time than run about saving people, especially those you have betray me," he hissed, showing true emotion for the first time. It only figured that it would be anger and hatred. Bridget stepped backwards in fear. She couldn't pretend to be brave anymore. Before, when she was on his side, she could stand up to him. She couldn't hurt, and she knew he would never kill her. Now Bridget wasn't so sure. Everything had changed.

"Don't blame this on me," she whispered, shaking her head. Voldemort's cold laugh rang throughout the clearing.

"Blame this on you?" he laughed, mocking her. "Isn't it your fault, though?" he paused, his voice lowering dangerously. Bridget felt herself shake. "My own daughter…"

"Like you ever acted like a father!" Bridget cried, raising her eyes to stare straight into his. She was afraid, but that didn't mean she was weak. All was not lost. "You weren't around half my life and when you were what were you doing? Torturing people! Taking lives! Maybe if you acted like half a decent father I wouldn't be so inclined to be the bad daughter you claim I am."

"Don't backtalk to me," Voldemort yelled, pointing his wand right in front of her face. His eyes burned with anger, hatred evident on every bit of his expression. Bridget stepped back, clenching her own wand in frustration. She didn't pull it out, though. Something hindered her. She'd defied him many times before, was constantly rude, but never before had she intentionally physically hurt him.

_"I hate you," _Bridget whispered, spitting in his face. Time seemed to freeze for a moment as Voldemort considered this, strange emotions flashing through his expression. He pulled back for a minute, staring straight at her, analyzing. Then, quicker than Bridget could blink, his hand was on her arm and was dragged her towards a more secluded part of the clearing, hidden by shadows.

"You think you're so smart, don't you?" he started, causing Bridget to gulp. "Don't think I don't know. I am Lord Voldemort and you can't hide something like a pregnancy from me!"

"Please," Bridget pleaded, the thought of her children rushing back into her brain. If he hurt her he'd hurt them. She could withstand whatever he could give, but her babies could not. Above all, she had to protect them. She should have put them first before, but it was too late now. The least she could do was this.

"Perhaps you think you have everything figured out," Voldemort mused, slowly releasing her and stepping into the shadows. Bridget didn't follow him, but she could just barely make out a lump on the ground by his feet. She couldn't focus on it, though, and instead decided whether or not it was a wise idea to try and run now. Would he catch her? Would he ever try to?

"Why did you bring me here? What do you want?" she finally asked, shaking her head. She couldn't risk angering him any more and causing him to lash out. The minute he cast a hex at her, the babies' lives were at stake. It wasn't a risk Bridget was willing to take.

"I needed time. I need to be sure you were coming, but I needed time," Voldemort almost ranted. He was pacing, now, getting ready to reveal the purpose of this excursion. "That's why I sent the dementors. Of course, once I knew you were coming for sure I sent somebody after you. I must say I'm quite disappointed you couldn't fight them off yourself. You are much weaker than I thought."

"You're a coward. I don't care about anything you have to say anymore."

"Don't you?" Voldemort replied, his eyes widening. "You came, didn't you?"

"This was a mistake. I don't know why you've brought me here…"

"I can't afford to have you around anymore," Voldemort interrupted, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his wand. "I didn't want to have to do this, you must understand. I only ever wanted the best from you…" he trailed off, and for a brief moment Bridget swore she caught emotion in his eyes. Her heart wrenched, stomach turning, as she wondered where the human in her father had gone.

"You only ever wanted the best for yourself, you selfish bastard!"

"Silence!" he shouted, threatening her with the wand again. "I wanted this to work out, but you kept disobeying. You appear to be under the impression that you might win this war, but there is news for you. It's over."

"It's not over. You haven't won yet and I hope you know I'll keep fighting until the very end!" she declared, finally pulling her own wand into view. She may not be the most talented dueler, but she knew her fare share of spells. She could at least hold Voldemort off until help came.

Even if it was naïve, Bridget firmly believed that help would come for her. Surely, after they discovered she was gone, The Order would try its best to find her. Harry wouldn't let her absence go unnoticed, and though she was ashamed to have troubled and endangered them like this she knew it wasn't to end tonight. There were so many things to consider; it couldn't be as over as Voldemort thought it was.

"And what would your fighting do? What have you done to protect those you claim to 'love?" Voldemort cackled, throwing his head back in mirth. Bridget gulped. "Nothing! Love is a petty emotion, rarely true, and never fails to destroy those who feel it. I've told you that time and time again, but you've never listened.

"And now it will come back to destroy you…Now you will see that you can do _nothing_ to stop Lord Voldemort. You aren't strong enough to fight and the only thing left to do is comply or die. You, my poor daughter," his voice lowered then, and he stepped aside, slowly drawing attention to the black heap that lay at his feet. "You have failed me, and for that you must suffer."

"What have you done?" Bridget whispered, stepping forward. Fear swelled up in her throat as she peered in on the body, the poor human Voldemort had killed to prove a point. He held life in no importance, and for once so afraid of death it reeked all around him.

"I have won," he announced, the moment pressing upon them. "If you are under the impression that you could save anybody you are mistaken. Daughter, if only you would have listened. You would have learned so much…became so much…but now…you can't even manage to save the one you claim to love the most."

Bridget gasped, the moment drawn out and exaggerated as realization had hit. Dream hit reality, the future becoming present, and everything fell apart.

_A swirl of chaos hazed over the meadow. A earsplitting scream echoed, bouncing off the trees. Had it come from her own mouth? Was the sick feeling inside of her really there? Was this really happening?_

_Blood trickled towards her like a stream. Morbid thoughts attacked her mind from all angles. A sickening feeling rose in her throat, vile acid touching her tongue._

_"No," she whispered, throat aching from the previous scream._

_Because everything else had faded away. The only thing left lay a mangled body, bleeding, but obviously dead. Not coming back._

_The end had come. This is what it had all been leading up to._

_Harry Potter had fallen._

_He was dead._

_Bridget cried, falling to her knees as she tried to fight off the reality. It had come too soon. It wasn't true. He couldn't be dead._

_"Please, no, bring him back," she cried, weeping as her salty tears mixed with the red blood of her husband. She should have never come here…maybe if she did things differently…_

_A wicked laughter pierced her heart, red eyes blazing in her vision. There was so much red…too much red…_

_The laughter continued as Harry's body faded from vision. Gone forever._

_The End had come._

"How could you?" she whimpered, memories of the dream meshing with what lay before her eyes. She couldn't tell what was truth, what was the past or what was now. All she could feel was pain and anger, alongside the need for action. She couldn't stand still, could hardly breath. Her muscles clenched, her nails digging into her own hand. Then, finally, without so much as a second thought her wand was raised and upon her father, a strength digging up from inside of her. Harry's strength. Everything that he believed in, and everything that she had lost…It would drive her to this. Her final moment of action.

"Arvada Kerdava!"

The green melded against red, snake like eyes turning black as the night. There was no reaction time, instead just the piercing sound of body against ground. Bridget didn't think about what she'd just done, how easy it was, or what it meant to the wizarding world. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to cry as she threw herself upon the body of Harry, burying her face in his chest.

He didn't even smell like himself, Bridget noticed, laying motionlessly beside him. She bit her lip, staring at him in agony. If only she could turn back time and bring him back. She'd give anything just to take this all away.

Time had seemed to freeze for a moment, only causing Bridget's mind to move faster. Then, almost as if her wishes were being answered, Harry shuffled and blinked. His body moved, fighting against the laws of physics, and his green eyes opened.

"Harry?" Bridget asked, her voice hoarse as she stared at him, the faintest of smile on her face. He narrowed his eyes at her, sitting up without effort. Bridget thought that was strange; should one returning from the dead be the least bit weak?

He was changing, though, his body twisting and turning. He winced, squeezing his eyes shut and tearing off the glasses from his face. He threw them to the ground, disregarding whether they broke or not. His hands grew, his face adjusted, and his limbs shortened.

"No, Bridget. Not Harry."

"Aiden?" Bridget breathed, jumping on her feat. Aiden followed her lead, and Bridget stood to face him, a shocked expression on her face. What was he doing here? Where was Harry…?

"Harry was never here, you fool. Look what you've done!"

"What?" Bridget stuttered. "I…I don't understand."

"You've ruined everything!" Aiden shouted, throwing his arms up. Anger flamed deep in his eyes, but Bridget couldn't comprehend it. He…He was supposed to be on her side! Was everything they shared a lie?

"I-"

"My master-_our father_- is dead! You killed him!" he cried, grabbing her arm with as much force as he could muster. He struggled from a moment, searching for the correct words. Bridget stared at him in disbelief, beyond confused.

"Good!" Bridget replied, shaking her head. "Why are you here? What's going on?"

"I never understood," Aiden started, shaking his head. "Why did he want you? Why did he bring you here? He never told me the plan…I was given instructions and I followed them…"

"You…you mean you've been on his side all this time?" Bridget whispered, her eyes darkening. "I trusted you and you betrayed me and my friends…and…"

"Nothing will compare to the amount of betrayal you've committed tonight," Aiden replied. "I don't even…you're not even worth it anymore. I can't look at you."

"Voldemort was evil!" Bridget shouted, throwing her arms up in the air. She couldn't wrap her brain around what Aiden was saying. Nothing was making sense anymore. Her body was weak and her eyes were drooping. She wanted to go home, back to Harry-_he was alive-_back to life. She wanted to sleep this off, pretend it was a dream.

"He was your father! And you never failed to prove to me-to him-that you were a biggest mistake. I never understood it, never will, and dammit, I hate you!"

"You don't know what you're saying!"

"No, you don't," Aiden countered, glaring at her. He took two steps forward, his eyes boring into hers. "I always understood why we had to be separated. Being his son, I understood Lord Voldemort better than anyone else. He feared our power, and didn't trust my loyalty to him. How could he, though? We were young and impressionable when we were separated. All his actions are justifiable."

"Taking the lives of others is never justifiable," Bridget whispered. She didn't have the energy to arguer. Her world was spinning. Her eyesight was becoming fuzzy, all the life left in her draining. She clung to that last bit, though, listening intently to Aiden's words.

"It isn't about that!" Aiden cried, burring his head in his hands. "It's about him and you. I never understood _that._ I was the oldest. I was the male. He should have kept me, the loyal servant. Instead, he threw me to the streets and stuck with _you," _he spit the word out like dirt. Bridget shuddered.

"He was crazy," she muttered, but the fog was clearing. She could feel what Aiden was saying, the puzzle pieces coming together. She couldn't argue against anything he had to say. Like Voldemort had said, she was weak.

"You betrayed him time and time again. You went against his ordered, defied him and argued whenever possible. It was the last straw when you went off with Potter. He'd finally come to his senses. After I delivered him the prophecy-"

"You did that?" Bridget gasped in shock, but she was ignored.

"I thought for sure he knew who the true heir. He would forget about you just as he had me and I could take your place. Finally, appreciated like I deserved.

"I was wrong," Aiden sighed, looking down as he shook his head. "He still clung to you like a starving man. Even after you'd left you still remained more important than anything else. I could never understand…but you were his daughter!"

"I don't understand," Bridget mouthed, doubling over forward. She felt her eyes drooping. She wasn't going to be able to stay conscious any longer. Aiden was almost sobbing before her, but she couldn't stand to listen to him any longer. There was too much emotion, too much loss.

"You killed him!" he finally shouted. "He loved you and you killed him!"

"He loved nobody but himself!" Bridget argued back, but she didn't think he heard her. She didn't know if the words had even come out of her mouth. All she could feel was the earth below her as she finally drifted off, but not before hearing Aiden's last dry words.

"Voldemort was right to stay away from love, but not even he was strong enough to do it. In the end it _did_ kill him. He loved you and you killed him…You were the only one he ever loved…"


	107. Death is Strange and Hard

Bridget rolled around in her bed, eyes squeezed shut in pain. She couldn't remember why she wasn't at home or how she'd gotten to a place so cold and uncomfortable, but as she opened her eyes she knew something was not right. So, that's when everything came rushing back towards her. She sat straight up, staring at the door in front of her, hand reaching up to touch her face.

That's when Bridget Potter realized she was crying. She hadn't cried in years, having been taught that it showed weakness. Since then nothing had brought a tear to her eye, not even the death of her best friend. Yet, as Lord Voldemort had came to his fall she was shaking with sobs. Her body heaved, her throat burned, and her eyes leaked. Her sobs rang throughout the empty room and all Bridget could do was cry.

She felt alone in the darkness, but she rejected the light. She was desperate to rid herself of this pain she couldn't describe. Why did she feel so horribly about the death of the one person she hated the most? She always thought she'd be happy about her father's death, but then again she'd never imagined herself to be the one to cause it either. There was such a huge difference between Harry killing Voldemort and herself killing him.

She couldn't get Aiden's words out of her head. She didn't necessarily believe them, but somehow they'd struck a cord. What would make Aiden think Voldemort loved her? Hadn't he heard all of Voldemort's beliefs about love? Surely anybody who knew anything would know Voldemort was incapable. That was his one big fault, after all. That was Harry's strength.

Aiden did bring up good points, though. Some of the facts didn't add up. If she were anybody else she wouldn't be able to get away with half of what she did. If she were anybody else Voldemort would have killed her. Voldemort should have killed her. So many times she'd been close to suffering the true force of his wrath. Could it be possible that everything Aiden said was true? Bridget could never be sure.

Either way it didn't matter. He was gone now. Everything had changed and slowly the world would come to realize it. Bridget didn't know if she could handle that. What would she tell Harry? Would he be mad? Bridget felt like she didn't know anything anymore.

She hugged her body close, not bothering wipe the tears from her eyes anymore. She just let them drop on her knees, soaking through her hospital dress. She didn't understand it, and the confusion was driving her mad. Life just didn't make sense anymore. Bridget almost didn't know what she would do next, or how to handle any situations.

Bridget closed her eyes for a moment, leaning back against the bed and trying to regain a normal breathing pattern. She looked up, though, at the sound of the door clicking open, only to fall shut again with a loud bang.

_"Oh."_

"Seth?" she sniffled, slightly shocked to see the familiar boy's face. She hadn't seen him since her days at school, a peaceful place that seemed eons away by now. Their petty school crushes seemed distant and strange, and Bridget knew that the boy she was looking at was no longer the same person he claimed to be in her days at Hogwarts.

"I didn't know you were awake," he mumbled, keeping his eyes downcast. "I saw Potter…but…"

"What are you doing here?" she asked, ignoring his rambling. Tears were still dripping down her cheek, her eyes squinted as she examined Seth.

"I'm an intern. I check on patients and stuff while the real healers are busy. I can go get them if you want-"

"No!" Bridget shouted, shaking her head and holding her arm up. Seth looked surprised and a little uncomfortable. Bridget's face softened. "I'm not ready to face them yet."

"Face them?" he questioned after a moment, swallowing. "What…" he trailed off, unsure of himself. Bridget crossed her arms, leaning back in her bed and closing her eyes.

"What do you know?"

"Not this," Seth almost snorted, waving his arm about. "They wouldn't tell me anything about what happened, only what to look out for. I'm not really important enough yet."

"Everything's different now," Bridget whispered, shaking her head.

"What do you mean?" Seth pressed hesitantly, stepping forward. He was tentative as he sat on the bed, uncertain if he should be interacting with patients like this. He knew he was only supposed to check on her, make sure she was stable, and alert the healers if anything changed. Bridget had always been different, though, and with her all the rules broke. They'd known each other before, and it would be polite of him to make sure she was alright in more than physical ways.

"How are the babies?" she asked instead, ignoring his question. Seth glanced down at his clipboard.

"They're fine. I didn't know you were pregnant," he commented. "I don't really know a lot…"

"I found out that night we kissed," Bridget admitted. Seth choked on his own spit, eyes wide as he stared at her in exasperation.

"What?" he wheezed, head spinning. Sometimes he wondered why he was so desperately in love with this girl. She was nothing but drama and complications. She was almost too much to handle, dragging miles of baggage behind her everywhere she went. Seth was glad to be rid of his schoolboy crush. He knew Bridget was more than happy with Harry and he regretted ever intervening. Perhaps if he'd given her over early things would have turned out better for the both of them.

"I'm sorry," Bridget whispered, wiping a tear from her eyes. "I suppose that's why I did it. I was so confused…and…I didn't even tell him until we were at least two weeks into summer."

"That sounds like you," Seth retorted dryly, his patience waning. He wanted to be there for his old friend, but at the same time he didn't. He could never understand the way her mind worked and sometimes he hated her for it. Bridget's mistakes weighed differently than others. Every decision seemed to have millions of consequences and Seth just couldn't fathom how she managed it all. Just hearing about her life made him ache.

"He…" Bridget trailed off, whimpering. "This is the first time I've cried since I was a kid, you know."

"You've mentioned that before," Seth responded, unsure of what to say. She had a distasteful look on her face, like the whole idea of her tears was sickening.

"My father taught me not to. It's ironic now that he's gone I finally am…free of his rules."

"Who's gone?" Seth asked, leaning forward anxiously. It then hit him why Bridget was here in the hospital. She was pregnant; she wouldn't be fighting in any battles when her children were due so soon. Bridget probably shouldn't have been out of the house anyway, but Seth knew her well enough to know she'd disobey what anyone told her if she felt passionately enough about it.

The final battle was certainly something to be passionate about. Seth sometimes forgot that Bridget was so closely intertwined with the innermost drama of the war. That's probably why they'd got along so well; Seth was able to act normal with her. Now he was realizing what had happened, though. Somebody had died, and it was either Voldemort or Harry.

"I don't feel free," Bridget blurted, once again ignoring Seth's questions. Seth brushed off her complaints, no longer in any mood for her silly comments. He knew she was emotionally distraught, but his stomach was turning and head spinning. He had to know what had happened. The war was over; that alone was more than enough to drive him crazy.

"Bridget, please tell me what happened," he demanded, staring her deeply in the eyes.

"I killed him. He loved me and I killed him," she whispered, her lip quivering as she whispered. Seth swallowed hard, licking his lips and nodding.

"Who?"

Bridget looked up, giving him a questioning look. Her mouth moved, but no words came out at first. She struggled for a few more moments, leaving Seth metaphorically on the edge of his sit. He was tired of waiting for her; he wanted answers.

"My father," she finally mouthed, a small squeaking sound coming from the back of her throat. Seth exhaled, eyes widening as he leaned back in shock and glee.

"You mean You-Know-Who is dead?" he repeated, not quite believing the news. Having been trapped in this war so long, it was hard to imagine a life were peace existed. He couldn't even begin to think how drastically his life would change. Sure, it would takes time for things to settle down, but eventually all would go back to normal. The wizarding world had been saved.

"Yes. Seth, please," she begged, clutching his arm and squeezing tight. Seth found it quite uncomfortable, but he ignored her. He was still working on soaking in the news.

"Bridget, this is great!"

"It's not!" she protested, digging her nails into his skin. "I can't believe what I've done…I don't…"

"Bridget," Seth interrupted, prying her hand off of him. He kept his voice steady, trying to calm her down. He was about ready to call in the other healers; there were so many things that probably needed to be checked now that she was awake. Besides, her family and friends would be coming soon. Seth admitted to not wanting to be around when they did arrive.

"Seth…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

"You've done nothing wrong, okay?" he told her. "Calm down and I'll go get someone to check you and the babies out. Harry will be coming soon, I'm sure…along with whoever else you're with these days."

"Don't go," Bridget pleaded, sticking her lower lip out in a pout. "I don't want to be alone…I've been left so alone…"

"You aren't alone," Seth consoled. "You have people that care about you."

"Are you one of them?" Bridget questioned. Seth sighed, not sure how to answer that.

"Of course," he finally decided, patting her shoulder. "But I have a job to do."

"My own brother betrayed me, you know. I need you."

"You don't," Seth snapped, his heart filled with chagrin. He really did want to say with her and her broken face, but he couldn't. He refused to fall into this trap again. "I know you're going through a really rough time right now, but I can't help you. I need you to figure things out on your own, alright? I promise somebody will be here soon."

With that Seth left to find a healer and bask in the news that had reached his ears. Bridget stared after him, whimpering as she continued to cry. She placed a hand on her stomach, reminding herself that Seth was right. She wasn't alone. She had to be strong right now. Even if she felt weak, she had her babies to think of.

Feeling more tired than she ever had in her life, Bridget let herself fall asleep and try not to dream of the thoughts that had haunted her since the very beginning. It was over now, wasn't it? There was hope, a light at the end of the tunnel. Things felt bad, but her guilt would fade.

It had to.

Bridget was an adult now and she had to remind herself of that. She couldn't resort back to clinging to Seth in her times of need. It wasn't fair to him. Besides, she should be happy Voldemort was gone. No matter how loud Aiden's words rang through her head she had to forget them. There were other things to focus on.

Bridget didn't even stop to consider that she'd saved the world, even when she wasn't supposed to.


	108. At Full Speed

Bridget covered her eyes, groaning lightly as she heard noises in the background.

"Bridget! Bee, come on, baby, wake up!"

"Harry, stop. Please, you're causing a scene."

"That's my wife, Hermione. Don't pretend to-"

"Harry?" Bridget moaned, her voice hoarse as she opened her eyes to see the fuzzy imagine of Harry, Hermione and Ron clutching hands in the background.

"Bridget," he exhaled, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around her. "Are you okay? Are the babies okay? Are-"

"Shush," she ordered, shaking her head. She felt weak still, memories of the nights before coming flooding back. "Give me a moment."

"Of course," Harry obliged, stepping back and placing his hands behind his back. Bridget closed her eyes, relaxing into the pillows.

"We're all fine," she finally said, opening her eyes once more. "Did you just get here?"

"I'm so sorry," Harry mumbled, looking guilty. "I was out on a mission, couldn't be reached, and I didn't hear until late. I hurried here as soon as I could when I heard, though. Oh, why did you go?"

"What have they told you?" Bridget asked, her eyes flickering from Harry to Ron and Hermione. Her head hurt immensely and she just wanted to go back to sleep, but she knew she couldn't. There was so much to be done now and Bridget wasn't quite sure how to accomplish it all.

"Nothing," Harry said quietly. "Nobody really knows anything, not even Dumbledore."

"I-" Bridget started, but she couldn't seem to continue. She couldn't connect the thoughts in her head and was barely making sense of what was going on now. Her eyes were burning from crying, her gaze upon Harry faltering.

"This is all my fault," Harry whispered, burying his face in his hands. Somewhere in that time Hermione and Ron had left, sensing the moment of confusion and solidarity. "I should have known you would go. I should have watched you…you could have been killed. They could have been killed!"

"Stop," Bridget consoled. "Don't blame yourself, please. You didn't ask for any of this and it's just as much mine as yours."

"I was just so scared, Bee," Harry murmured, nuzzling his face in her hair. "I thought I'd lost you."

"You'll never lose me, Harry. I promise."

It was silent as they sat there, holding each other. Bridget made room for Harry on the small hospital bed, only tearing her eyes away from him when the healers came in to check on her. Luckily, everything was alright. Seth had been diligent about making sure she was healthy. Bridget would need just a little recovery time, and the babies had not been affected at all.

All Bridget had been told was to stay rested, avoiding all senses of stress that might result from the traumatic experience. She'd heard so many lectures about stress being bad for the babies it was almost hard to take in. There was still so much to take care of, and Bridget still hadn't told anybody about what happened in the corn fields with Voldemort. Obviously, only a select few members of the order knew, but Bridget could still not be sure.

"What happened? I…passed out. How did you guys find me? Who was there?" she questioned turning to Harry. His eyebrows knit together, a familiar guilty feeling returning.

"It was Hermione who noticed you were gone first," he admitted. "Ron and I were busy. She was the only smart enough one to think about you leaving…we all just assumed you'd stay. I really did think we were beyond these stupid games," Harry spoke the last bit with anger, his eyes narrowing. Bridget felt a pang of guilt herself. She should have been done with Voldemort. This really never should have happened…Harry had reason to be angry.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I risked everything over pride. I thought it would be like before when I'd visit him. He…he'd never before done lasting damage. I didn't consider how much things have changed."

"You don't consider a lot of things," Harry retorted, the annoyance still evident in his voice. "I really shouldn't have to tell you these things. You're a part of this war. You should know."

"I do!" Bridget stressed. "It's just…a different dynamic. Everything's so different…and he's my father, Harry. Please understand that."

"He's a monster," Harry snapped. "I'll be glad when he's gone."

Bridget's heart dropped, tears forming in her eyes. Harry was still so oblivious. He didn't understand. He was so stubborn and unwilling to listen to what Bridget had to say. Somehow, because of what Bridget had done, distance was created.

"Don't…don't say that," she pleaded, shaking her head. He would never truly understand, his hate for Voldemort blinding him. Bridget would forever be alone in that sense, the only one to feel remorse because of the death she had caused. She would never be able to talk it out in fear they'd think she was crazy. Harry would never listen to her, only arguing and eventually leaving her.

Bridget was tired of being left. She'd been working on becoming some sort of better person so that they might stay and up until now it had worked. She'd made a stupid mistake, though, and it kept reiterating in her head. More tears kept coming.

"Bridget, are you crying?" Harry demanded, looking shocked. "You…I've never seen you cry."

"He's dead, Harry," she sniffled. "He's gone."

"What? Who is?" Harry asked eagerly, his tone mimicking that of Seth's last night. They were all the same, exited about the end of the enemy, not seeing the way it pained Bridget's heart to say the words.

"I don't understand…" she murmured, trailing off. She wanted to be strong and happy about this, for Harry, but she couldn't manage it. All she could do was stare with her wet eyes at Harry's empty expression, causing more confusion than before.

"Bridget, please, speak to me. I love you, I'll listen, what happened?"

"My family…all gone…" she hiccupped, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. She hugged her body, scooting away from Harry. She felt like a traitor for being so upset about this. She couldn't stand to be next to him, the boy who was never meant to live, and who she was never meant to love. He had always been too good for her. He would have been strong enough to get through this. It should have been him who killed Voldemort, but once again Bridget had just gotten in the way.

"Aiden?" Harry questioned.

"No. Yes. He…"

"Please, tell me what happened."

Bridget shook her head, gathering up her strength and courage. She took a moment to stop the tears, her throat burning as she pulled herself together. It wasn't time to tell him yet. She wanted to run away from this, put off the news for as long as possible.

"Tell me what happened when Hermione figured out I was gone," she begged, hoping it was distract him enough. Harry stared at her, obviously doubtful, but he didn't object and continued to tell the story.

"She contacted Dumbledore, of course," Harry spoke as if it was obvious. "From what I hear, it took some time to locate you. Like I said before, I wasn't around," he said the last part quietly, frowning unhappily. "Then they found you, passed out in the fields."

"That's it?" Bridget double checked, her eyes wide and worried. Harry nodded, still confused. He waited patiently, though, knowing she was still weak. She'd have to tell him the truth eventually, and even though he hated not knowing things and the curiosity was burning like fire inside of him he'd wait. He loved her enough for that.

"Yes. Why-"

"Bridget!" came the voice of Ron as he threw open the door, Hermione and Dumbledore trailing behind him with worried expressions on their faces.

"Ron!" Harry scolded, ready to lash out at his friend for destroying the peace. Ron didn't listen, though, instead throwing down the front page of _The Daily Prophet_.

"Is this what you've been hiding? Bridget! How could you not tell us! This is…" Ron paused to find the right word, only coming up with "This is EPIC!"

"What is he going on about?" Harry inquired, picking up the paper and scanning the title. His face froze like a stone as he read, his eyes glazing over as he finished the headline. His jaw was moving like crazy, his hand twitching as the paper fell to the floor. His hand flew up to his heart.

"What?" he whispered, keeling over.

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry! What have you to be sorry for?" Ron laughed, throwing his head back and letting his red locks fly everywhere. "Voldemort is dead!"

"This is great," Hermione assured her, smiling more considerately.

"How did this happen? What about the prophecy?" Harry continued to burst out questions as his eyes traveled from Dumbledore to Bridget and back again. Dumbledore smiled slowly, folding his hands together.

"Actually, if Mrs. Potter is willing to tell me her half of the story, I do believe I can help you to fill in the blanks and understand what has taken place here. I've only gotten so far, but Voldemort has been surprisingly easy to read."

The whole room turned to Bridget. She stared at them, her mouth hanging open unattractively as she decided what her next move would be. She hadn't been prepared for this. She'd been hoping to put it off just a little bit longer, but so far that had proved impossible. Everybody was pressing her for information she just didn't want to give. She wanted to forget the whole thing and go back to just a few days ago, when she'd never received the letter. Things may have been difficult then, but nowhere near as hard as this.

Bridget was curious, though. Dumbledore said he might have answers, and if he need her side of the story how was she to deny him? Somehow this whole matter had to be settled and it was time for Bridget to do so. With that she inhaled deeply, gathering her courage and attempting to tell the story.

"I'd gone to see him because I'd dreamt that I would. I dreamt about the letter and about me seeing him…and about Harry dying," Bridget paused, waiting for the reactions of those she cared most about. They did nothing, though. They only stared.

"Please, continue," Dumbledore urged after she'd been quiet for a while.

"Sorry," she muttered, shaking her head. "I thought I could stop him and maybe then Harry would live…but everything went just as my dream predicted. He held me off for as long as possible before finally facing me. He taunted me, and I tried to fight, but…then he showed what I knew would happen all along.

"Harry was dead. And I couldn't take it…I wasn't thinking and I just…exploded. And…that's when I killed him," Bridget finished, finally saying the words allowed. It was strange on her tongue, a truth she'd been avoiding for so long. Time had lost its meaning anyway, though, and Bridget was coming to the point where she cared about little.

"Harry's not dead, though," Hermione pointed out. Like everybody else, she looked confused.

"It hadn't been Harry at all. It'd been Aiden, polyjuiced and acting. He was on Voldemort's side all along."

"I knew there was something fishy about him," Ron muttered angrily.

"But why? This isn't how it was supposed to happen," Harry sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. Dumbledore smiled, pushing his half-moon shaped glasses up his nose.

"I beg to differ, Mr. Potter."


	109. Love Remains the Same

Bridget and Harry linked hands as they sat in Dumbledore's office, feeling much like school children again. For the millionth time it felt, Bridget wondered if she had ever really grown up. Somehow she belonged in this seat, staring up at her old and loyal headmaster as she waited for his explanations.

"Though clearly evil, we must not mistake Tom Riddle as a stupid man," were the first words that came out of the old man's mouth. "He is by far one of the most talented and intelligent I have ever met, and one can only imagine the goodness he could have done if he applied his power differently. We must also remember, however, that Tom Riddle was a selfish man. He cared for not much else but himself and every action he took was the benefit him in the long run.

"This is why I'm led to believe that the birth of his children was never a mistake. He may not have known to the extent that they would be, but there must have been a reason for him to impregnate Bellatrix Lestrange. Perhaps it was an experiment, or perhaps he just knew he would need blood of his own. Clearly the act was not one of love, as most children are born. I imagine he also did not want heir, for the idea of death was not one Tom ever truly grasped. He believed he could live forever."

"This doesn't explain anything, sir," Bridget spoke, eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I could have guessed all of this."

"Oh, Mrs. Potter," Dumbledore laughed. "It is important to start at the beginning in order for us to understand the end."

Bridget was silent after that, sending Harry a doubtful glance. His expression remained complacent, however, though he rubbed circles on her hand comfortingly.

"Just listen," he whispered.

"As you could have guessed all of this, I'm sure you can also guess the reasons for Lord Voldemort's attack on the Potters. He was threatened by the child and found it fit to rid himself of the risk before it became one. Lord Voldemort never imagined that a baby could have anything that would harm him, and by killing the child it would just prevent greater hardships in the future.

"In the prophecy it states that the child would hold power that the Dark Lord knows not, and I do believe it is safe to assume that this power is love. I also believe that Voldemort knew that as soon as the curse backfired and hit him. He must have known why Harry survived, though many did not. It was by the love of his mother, one of the greatest loves there is, that Harry defeated him. I do believe that is why Voldemort placed his attention on Bridget, instead of Aiden."

"But why?" Bridget blurted.

"For many pureblood families it is the male that is favored, for they will carry on the family name. Especially in the times where Tom Riddle first lived, females were usually pushed aside and males were the ones who families devoted the most time and energy to. In Voldemort's mind, if he were to truly love somebody and defeat the child that hindered him he had to love somebody unexpected. Not truly believing in love himself, his own daughter seemed to be the perfect choice.

"Bridget did not make things easy on him, did you?" Dumbledore laughed, his eyes sparkling.

"I was angry he sent Aiden away. I didn't understand…but I was his daughter…" she trailed off, her lips pressed in a thin line as she thought over her past, the ones Harry could only dream of knowing.

"You strayed from him and his teachings. His plan to gain the power that had saved his enemy was failing as you rejected all his ways. His struggle for this love that he could never understand was getting harder and harder, for how could he love one who felt nothing for him in return?"

"I didn't feel _nothing,"_ Bridget defended, unsure why she was doing so. Now that he was gone everything was so different. There were so many things she wanted to change, even if she couldn't. "I came back to him, didn't I?"

"I suppose you did, and I suppose that kept him going. It helped, however, when you came to Hogwarts."

"He was always against that…" Bridget murmured.

"He feared that if you got a taste of a normal life you'd permanently break your ties with him. He was displeased at first, I believe, but it also brought truth to his eyes. By your seventh year his priorities had shifted in ways that can only be described as fate. Before he'd been fighting against Harry and for Bridget. However, the moment you two met I believe the stars aligned and fate changed.

"I remember those early days of the year, where all you would do is fight. It was saddening to see, especially since you were so tightly bound together. It wasn't something very noticeable, but even in the early days it was painfully obvious how tightly intertwined your lives were. I did not expect this, but even then I was almost sure you could never truly break apart form each other.

"Voldemort was probably pleased with your relationship-mainly the fact that you had none. He believed he'd finally one-upped Harry; he loved the one girl his enemy hated more than anything. Suddenly Voldemort's success was clearer than before; the downfall of Potter would be simple. Though he'd acknowledged it, he never truly understood, Bridget was the key.

"It was a constant battle from there. With Lillian trying to push the two of you together it was Voldemort's highest priority to tear the two of you apart. I do believe that's why he killed her in the end. The risks were too high, and assumed the hate would be fueled, only driving you further apart. His plan failed, however, and the single act granted the gift of friendship.

"That Christmas Voldemort made his move, his greatest act of deception yet as he finally proved to the world whose side his daughter was on. He became so focused on making sure Harry hated the one he loved, so much that he forgot to love Bridget. He didn't know how to do so, nor did he bother to try. He figured just saying the words was enough, but it was proven later that evening his attempts had been in vain."

"That was the day you told him," Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I never understood why you did that, you know," he added.

"I had to. I couldn't just allow things to remain the way they'd been."

"Bridget confession was the beginning of a path no one could have expected. In my own humble perspective I believe it initiated the prophecy-the one that predicted Harry's death. Everything was falling into place quite nicely, despite the rough patches we all went through. There were some dark times, what with both sides believing in Bridget's betrayal.

"I had an inkling of what was to come and from then on out I tried my very best to prolong Bridget's stay at Hogwarts and save her from a life of imprisonment. I knew, if nothing else, that nothing would be the same without her involved in the war. She had to be here and in the end I was right.

"The prophecy stoke of a betrayer, who I assume we can now conclude is Aiden Riddle. I believe it was he who informed his father of the prophecy, gaining his trust, and from then on out focused on assisting his father in any way possible. He played the part of a brother and friend, but he played the part of a son better."

"He wanted Voldemort's love-the way I had it. He told me after I…after I'd…." Bridget trailed off, shaking her head. "Anyway, it doesn't matter now. He wanted to be the favorite and couldn't understand why it was me."

"Perhaps Voldemort couldn't either. I do not know how often he had to reassure himself that there was a reason for his love and protection over you. I imagine you caused him much grief and pain, especially with the news that Harry had forgiven you and you two began seeing each other. He knew of the prophecy now, though, and that kept his anger at bay. It was, in fact, the day of the marriage that I believe made the final difference, fulfilling every requirement and giving hope to both sides, in fact.

"The prophecy that foretold Harry's death also foretold a binding commitment-the marriage to Bridget Riddle. To Voldemort it was simply the final piece of the puzzle. Bridget had officially become Harry's downfall and in his mind he must have formed a plan that would lead to Harry's death. He held no fear, believing in the truth of the prophecy.

"My perspective was a little different from his, however. I wanted to look past what was staring right at me and into the truth. And do you know what I found?"

"No, sir," Harry said.

"Marriage is a legal and binding commitment. It is an act the legally ties two people together, and along with those people their possessions and bodies. It is the most intimate form of love and something that should never be broken or abused. If a marriage has the ability to tie together possessions, it also holds the ability to tie together prophecies. The second prophecy, the one we all thought spoke of Harry, really spoke of Bridget.

"Harry's prophecy declared it had to be him that defeated Lord Voldemort, but the moment that he bound himself with Bridget it applied to her as well. Your love, your power, was something Tom Riddle could never understand or overpower. Because of the binding commitment of Harry Potter his prophecies applied to Bridget, and he would not overcome the Dark Lord because she would."

Bridget exhaled, her head spinning. It was hard to take in all that Dumbledore had just said, his words ringing in her ear. She'd begun to cry again, something she was now doing more and more often now that she could again. It all made sense, but still nothing did. She didn't like this whole situation, and a piece of her wished to go back before he'd died.

Without speaking a word, Bridget placed a hand on her stomach and walked out of the room, standing outside the doorway and leaning against the wall. She stared straight ahead, waiting for the boy that she knew would follow. It was no use leaving him now, not after all of this. She needed to get out, though. She needed air.

"Bridget," Harry called, falling beside her. She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing hard.

"I know I should be happy about this, but I can't do it. Harry…"

"Please, talk to me," he pleaded.

"You wouldn't understand. You'd grow angry with me."

"I can't be angry at you, not after what you did. You've killed him, Bee," Harry breathed, amazed. "He's truly gone for good."

"Exactly!" Bridget cried in despair. "_I_ killed him. That was never supposed to happen; it was supposed to be you! I don't know if I can live with this…"

"Bee," Harry sighed, wrapping his arms around her. "What brought this on? It's alright-"

"It's not!" she interjected. "I know this may sound crazy, but as much as Voldemort could never understand love I do believe he loved me as much as he could. He tried and he was my father…"

"He was a monster," Harry seethed, stiffening. "He never acted like a father towards you."

"All the same…I feel guilty. I betrayed him in every way I could…"

"Don't," Harry ordered. "You did a great thing for the world. You'll be remembered for ages."

"I don't want to be! Not for this!" Bridget protested. She sighed, closing her eyes and trying to clear her head before speaking again. "I want you to do it."

"Do what?"

"Take the credit," she clarified. "I want to tell everybody you killed him, just like it was supposed to be."

"Bridget, I don't know if I can do that. I can't just lie," Harry responded hesitantly.

"You have to try. I will not be known as the girl who killed her father. I will not be like him."

"You aren't. Voldemort was evil."

"My decision is final."

Harry stared at her, his eyes wide and watery. He thought that Voldemort's defeat would bring clarity and freedom to his life, but so far it'd only brought his wife pain. This was not something he could understand. So, instead of trying he agreed with her, despite his better intentions.

"Alright. I'll take the credit."


	110. The Only One He Ever Loved

The moments that followed the death of Lord Voldemort were hectic and surprising. As soon as they'd made up a story [much to Harry's dismay] press conferences had been made as Harry publicly announced the fabricated details of how he defeated his long lasting enemy. Bridget sat in the front row, biting her nails as she listened to him, her eyes intently taking in all that was around her.

The wizarding world was bursting with energy. They'd finally found happiness and hope in a world where they knew none. The ministry was taking care of Death Eaters, the least they could do after the whole mess, and many families were in turn coming out of hiding. Everyone was reuniting with old friends, celebrating their time together. All that lay before them was bright futures.

Bridget was consoled by her world's happiness, and that helped her forget the depression she felt when thought of the events. She felt guilty for lying, but she knew she wouldn't have been able to handle it had the world known the truth. Harry could not leave the house without being stopped and congratulated. He had already been famous before, but now that he was around to remember it, life became that much worse.

Harry could not remember it, though. He wasn't there and didn't enjoy taking the credit for something he did not do. He hardly enjoyed taking the credit for something he did as a child, that wasn't really his doing anyway. He argued with Bridget often over this, but her excuses were far better than his. She promised it would all fade, just as long as Harry stuck it out for a while. He agreed, though not happily.

At least Harry was home more often. It was nice to have the house full again. Though Ron and Hermione were still in search of steadier careers, as was Harry, Bridget figured her current job was a good idea. It provided money and time, for when the children would be born. She was shocked and grateful that they'd survived her whole excursion, and promised to never risk their lives again. She hoped she'd never have to.

It was strange to be without danger or excitement, but they all found some sort of pattern in daily life. Things settled down, as all things do. The adventures were over. Bridget was due anytime now, and the whole house was anxiously awaiting the day when she'd give birth to her two beautiful children. She still made time for Harry's public events, though, feeling much more comfortable in the place of devoted wife than the spotlight.

Currently they were attending a ministry party in Harry's honor. Everyone working there had been invited, along with all of Harry's friends and even some people he did not know. There had been many parties since the defeat of Voldemort, but this was the "official" one. Harry was required to make a speech and everything, though she was sure he could get away with cutting it short depending on how long the minister rambled on.

Bridget found herself uncomfortable, her breathing becoming ragged and her stomach jolting with pain. Harry was looking at her in concern, his attention torn away from the speeches and celebrations as he carefully examined Bridget's body.

"Are you okay?" he kept repeated, head spinning. Bridget couldn't form responses, though, her conscience already realizing what was happening as her water broke and she went into labor.

The babies came fast, the boy first and then the girl. Harry stayed by her side the whole time, secretly thankful to leave the party, and he held her hand while she screamed profanities at him. Hermione and Ron were quick to join them, Hermione ranting off things she'd read about giving birth. Ron was pale white, his hands linked together as he tried not to throw up.

After things settled down the babies were cleaned and placed in their respective parents' arms. Rose went to Harry, while William went to Bridget.

"This is crazy," Bridget breathed, lightly tracing her son's features with her finger.

"I'm bloody terrified," Harry admitted, looking whiter than Ron had before.

After Hermione and Ron had spent an adequate amount of tome doting on the children they were placed in a cradle for the night. They'd be staying at the hospital until mid-afternoon, and then Bridget and her family would be able to return home. Harry had been offered a cot to sleep on, and he was quick to fall asleep.

Bridget was not, however. She stayed up late reading the paper, anxious to keep up with the news. That morning Aiden Riddle had been sentenced to a life in jail, and it pained Bridget to see the anger that appeared on the once familiar face. She felt at a loss without the him, realizing that she'd officially lost all of the family she was born with.

It was not as heartbreaking as she'd expected, though. Slowly Bridget was healing from the night of Voldemort's death, her own family replacing the holes he'd left. She'd been blessed with two wonderful children, and she vowed to give them everything she'd never received. Aiden was gone, but not everything was lost. There was hope and life and a future.

Later that week there was memorial for all those lost in the war. Especially with the birth of his children, Harry was not exited to attend. Bridget forced him, though, pushing a stroller forward as they sat in the back of the church, staying until even after the service.

Harry had taken Rose out for a diaper change; she'd quickly become the louder of the two children. William had woken with her, but he stayed peacefully in his mother's arms. Occasionally he cooed, but not much more noise was made.

After Rose had settled down Harry brought her back into the church, leaning against the doorframe as he watched his wife and son. The service had ended a long while ago, but Bridget had not moved from her spot. She seemed to be mumbling to herself-or maybe Will-but Harry could not make out what she was saying. Sighing, walked up to her and dropped into the seat next to her, gazing up at the front of the church.

"What are you thinking about?" he whispered, leaning in so his breath could tickle her ear.

"Him," she responded with hesitancy. "Everything."

"Oh."

"Part of me doesn't want it to be over…and I can't explain that other than the fact that he was my dad."

"You've lost a lot in this war," Harry noted. "We all have."

"I was a part of him, and now that he's gone I almost don't know what to do with myself."

Harry didn't respond, placing an arm around Bridget and cradling Rose with the other. She'd fallen asleep, finding peace in her family. Harry, proud father to a beautiful daughter and son, gazed down upon his children. He wondered if Voldemort had felt this feeling when he first saw Bridget and Aiden. Harry didn't really know his children yet, but there was already a bond. He already loved them.

Did Voldemort have that?

As Harry sat in silence, listening to the whispers of those passed, he closed his eyes, the answer to his question becoming known. Bridget was the most amazing girl he'd ever met in his life; it was hard not to like her. It was hard liking her, though, too, and Harry supposed that's what made him love her. He hadn't been the only one, though. He had to accept that he'd always shared Bridget, and even now he still did. The bond between lovers could never compete with the bond between father and daughter.

Stroking his own daughter's black hair, imaging those wide green eyes she bore when she was awake, Harry knew he'd grown to believe Aiden, though he'd never even heard his speech on the matter.

In his own way Voldemort had to have loved Bridget. There was no way around it; Harry could not deny it anymore.

She really was the only one he ever loved.

* * *

THE END!

* * *

**That's it. That's the end. I've been working on this story for who knows how many years and now it's finally over. I can't believe it. **

**First off, thank you to everybody that has been reading. It means so much to me that you've all stuck through me between account changes and sloppy writing and...every other mistake I've made. Who knows. It doesn't mater how long you've been reading either, even if it's from the very beginning. [Are there any of you left?] or even if you just found this story. It means the same. Now that's over...I just wow.**

**This story has been my baby. It's not the first fic I've finished, but it is by far my favorite. It had it's really great moments, ones I am so proud of. Albeit it had some bad moments too, and I'm sorry for those. In all, I hope you enjoyed reading this story just as much as I loved writing it. Thank you! **


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